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IMAGE  EVALUATION 
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Photographic 

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Cou 


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The 
to  tl 


The 

POS! 
of  tl 
film 


Orig 

begi 

the 

sion 

othe 

first 

sion 

or  ill 


The 
shal 
TIN! 
whii 

Map 
diffc 
entii 
begi 
righ 
reqi 
met 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  filmd  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqud  ci-dessous. 


10X 

14X 

18X 

22X 

26X 

30X 

y 

12X 


16X 


20X 


24X 


28X 


32X 


re 

details 
es  du 
modifier 
er  une 
filmage 


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§es 


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empreinte. 


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TINUED "),  or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END  "), 
whichever  applies. 


Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  •-►  signifie  "A  SUIVRE  ",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 


re 


Maps,  platets,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
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Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  §tre 
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Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  etre 
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et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  n^cessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mdthode. 


y  errata 
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nt 

le  pelure, 

pon  d 


1 

2 

3 

32X 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

/  / 


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y 


A    T  0  U  K 


/  J^io  i      '\ 


TO  THK 


%fm- 


RIVER   SAGUENAY, 


M 


IN 


L  0  W  E  11    CAN  A  D  A . 


BY 


CHARLES   LANMAN, 

AUTHOR  OF  "a  SUMMER  m  THE  WILDKUNESS.' 


I 


PIMLADELPHIA: 
CAREY    AND    HART. 

1848. 


Entered  according  to  tlio  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1847,  by 
CAREY  AND  HAPxT, 

in  the  Clerk"s  OlTice  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Eastern  District  of 

Pennsylvania. 


riiiLADELPiriA: 

T.  K.  Ai\D  P.  G.  COLLINS,  rKIiVTERS. 


TO 


SOLOMON   T.    NICOLL,    ESQ., 


OF  XEw  ToiiK  (  rrv. 


My  Dear  Sir, 

To  you,  in  testimony  of  my  friendship,  T  inscribe  this 
little  volume. 

On  a  pleasant  morning  in  May  last,  I  a\voke  from  a 
piscatorial  dream,  haunted  by  the  idea  that  I  ?m(sf  spend 
a  portion  of  the  approaching  summer  in  the  indulgence 
of  my  passion  for  angling.  Relinquishing  my  editorial 
labors  for  a  time,  I  performed  a  pilgrimage  wliich  has 
resulted  in  the  production  of  this  volume,  and  I  hope  it 
may  entertain  those  of  my  friends  and  the  public  who 
have  heretofore  received  my  literary  efforts  with  favor. 
The  work  will  be  found  to  contain  a  record  of  adventures 
in  the  valleys  of  tlie  Hudson,  St.  Lawrence  and  St.  Johns, 
and  along  some  of  the  rivers  of  New  England. 

Truly,  your  friend,  ^ 

CHARLES  LANAL^N. 

New  Y(»nK,  Autumn  of  1S47. 


J 


I! 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

The  Catskill  IMountains— South  Peak  Mountain— A  thunder  storm— 
lAIichiight  on  the  mountains  — Sunrise  — Plautcrkill  Clove  — Peter 
Hummel— Trout  fi.-<lung— Stony  Clove— The  Kautcrskill  Fall— The 
Mountain  House— The  MounUiin  Lake         -  -  -  17 

CHAPTER  n. 

A  spring  day— The  sky— The  mountains— The  streams— The  M-oods— 
The  oi)en  fields— Domestic  animals— Poetry— The  poultry  yard      36 


CHAPTER  HI. 


The  Corn  Planting  Bee 


45 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Lake  Horicon— Sketches  of  its  scenery— Information  for  anglers— Sab- 
bath Day  Point— War  memories— The  insect  city— Death  of  a  deer- 
Rogers'  Slide— Diamond  Island— The  snake  charmer- Snake  stories 
—Night  on  Horicon  "  •  -  -  •  50 

CHAPTER  V. 

The  Scaroon  country— Scaroon  Lake— Pike  fishing  by  torchlight— Trout 
fishing— Lyndsay's  Tavern— Paradox  Lake  .  -  63 


/ 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


I 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  Arlirondac  Mountains— Trent,  fi>hin-  in  tlio  Boreas  River— A  night 
in  the  Av(.. His— Moose  Lnke-Lake  Delia— The  Nowconib  Farm— 
INIom.t  TaliaM-us- The  Lnliau  Pa.--.-Lalces  fSanfonl  an.l  Henderson 
— TJie  IMcIntyru  iron  works  .  .  .  .  nQ 


CHAPTER  Vn. 

John  Cheney,  the  Adirondac  hunter— Some  of  his  exploits 

CHAPTER  VHI. 

Burlington— Lake  Chamijlain— Distinguished  men       - 


93 


i 
4 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Stage  eoach-The  Winooski-The  Green  lAIountains-The  ruined  dwell- 
ing—The White  Mountains-The  Flume-A  deep  pool-The  Old 
Mim  of  the  Mountains-The  ]^Kisin-Franeonia  Notch- View  of  the 
mountains— Mount  Washington— The  Notch  Valley  -  103 


CHAPTER  X. 


IMontrcal 


115 


I* 


CHAPTER  XL 


Quebec 


120 


CHAPTER  XIL 

A  sail  down  the  St.  Lawrence— Sword-fish  chasing  a  whale 


125 


CHAPTER  XIIL 

The  Saguonay  River— Storm  picture—The  Hudson's  Bay  Company- 
Eminent  merchant— The  IMountauieer  Lidians— Tadousac— Ruin  of 
a  Jesuit  establishment         -  -  .  .  .  ■.  oi 


CONTENTS. 


vii 


CHAT  Ti: II  XIV. 
The  salmon— Several  adventures 


MU 


CHAl'TER  XV 

Seal  hunting  on  the  St.  Luwrence—Tli.;  wl 


lite  porpoi.se 


151 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

The  Esquimaux  Indians  of  Labrador 


156 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


The  Habitans  of  Canada 


IGO 


chapti:r  XVIII. 

The   Grand  Portage  into   Nevv  Brunswick -Lake   Tuniscouta- 
Madawaska  River 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


The  Acadians 


■The 
1G5 


170 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Sail  down  the  Madawa^ka— The  Falls  of  the  St.  John 


CHAPTER  XXL 


The  Hermit  of  Aroostook 


174 


173 


CHAPTER  XXIL 


The  River  St.  John 


193 


CHAPTER  XXIIL 


The  Penobscot  River 


197 


VIU 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTKR  XXIV. 

Moosehea.l  Lake  and  the  Kenncbeck  River  - 


201 


A  fishing  party  on 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

the  Thames— Watch  Hill-Night  adventures        210 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 
A  week  in  a  fishinf?  smack-Fishermen-A  beautiful  morning  at  scji- 
A  day  at  Nantuckct-Wreck  of  a  ship-Night  on  the  ^ound-Satc 


arrival 


A    TOUR 


TO' THE 


KIVER    SAGUE^AY. 


C  H  A  P  T  I :  R    I . 

ri.>r.,.killMnnn,ain._S„n,l.  P.ak  Mo„ntnin-A  ,lun.,i.M-  <,onn_ 
^I'lnmht  on  tl...  .nun„mi„s-S,uni..-I>h,,t.rkiIl  ("l„v,.- ['.r.-r 
lI.nnMi.l-rr„Mt  lishi>.;.-N,ony  Cl-.v.  -  Tl,.  Kaut.T.kili  Fall-Tlu- 
Mnuntaiu  IIuu.<u  — Tiio  .Moimtaiti  Lalcc. 


Phwtcrkill  Clove,  May. 
I  COMMENCE  this  cluiptcr  in  the  Inna^a^e  of  Leather  Stock- 
1"?:-"  You  know  the  Catskills,  I:mI,  for  vou  must  li.ve  seen 
them  on  your  left,  as  you  followed  the   river  up  from   York 
look.ncr  as  hlue  as  a  piece  of  clear  sky,  and  holdin.r  the  clouds 
on  their  tops,  as  the  smoke  curls  over  the  head  of  an   Indian 
chiel  at  a  council-lire."     Yes,  everybody  is  acquaints  with 
the  names  ot  these  mountains,  but  iesv  with  their  peculiari- 
ties   of  scenery.    They  are  situated   about   eiirht  miles  from 
the  Hudson,  rise  to  an  average  elevation  of  about  thirty-iive 
hundred  leet,  and  running  in  a  straight  line  from  north  to 
south,  cover  a  space  of  some  twenty-five  miles.     The  fertile 
valley  on  the  east  is  as  beautiful  as  heart  could  desire  ;  it  is- 
watered  by  the  Kauterskill,  Plauterkill  and  Esopus  creek'^- 


i 


18 


A  TOIR  TO  THE   RIVER  SAOUENAY. 


inlinbitf'd  by  a  sturdy  Diitrli  yeomanry,  and  is  tlie  agricultural 
nioil'cr  oi"  ('atskill,  Sau<Tortics  and  Kinjiston.  'J'iio  u|)land  on 
tli(3  west  for  al)out  forty  miles  is  ruirtred,  dreary  and  thinly  set- 
tled, hut  tlic  \vindin<r  valley  of  Schoharie  beyond  is  possessed 
oi"  many  charms  peculiarly  American.  The  mountains  them- 
selves are  covered  with  dense  forests  aboundinir  in  dill's  and 
wateiTalls,  and  for  the  most  part  untrodden  by  the  footsteps 
of  man.  liookin*:  at  them  from  the  Hudson,  the  eye  is  at- 
tr;.v't(  (1  hy  two  deep  hollows,  which  are  called  "Cloves." 
'J'iie  one  nearest  to  the  Mountain  House,  Kauterskill  Clove, 
is  (lisiihjfuished  for  a  remarkable  fall,  which  lias  been  made 
fairiiliar  lo  the  world  by  the  pen  of  iJryant  and  the  pencil  of 
Cole;  but  this  (Jlove  is  raj)i(lly  fdlini^  up  with  human  habita- 
tions ;  while  the  other,  Plauterkill  Clove,  thouL''h  yet  possess- 
ing much  of  its  orijjinal  glory,  is  certain  of  the  same  destiny. 
The  irorjje  whence  issues  the  Esopus,  is  among  the  Shanda- 
ken  mountains,  and  not  visible  from  the  Hudson. 

My  nominal  residence,  at  the  present  time,  is  at  the  moutli 
of  JMauterkill  Clove.  To  the  west,  and  only  half  a  mile 
from  my  abode,  are  the  beautiful  mountains,  whose  outlines 
fade  away  to  the  north,  like  the  waves  of  the  sea  when 
coveretl  with  a  visible  atmosphere.  The  nearest,  and  to  me 
the  most  beloved  of  these,  is  called  South  l^eak.  It  is  nearly 
four  thousand  feet  high,  and  covered  from  base  to  summit 
with  one  vast  forest  of  trees,  varying  from  eighty  to  an  hun- 
drt^l  feet  in  height.  Like  its  brethren,  U  is  a  wild  and  unculti- 
vated wilderness,  abounding  in  all  the  interesting  features  of 
mountain  scenery.  Like  a  corner-stone,  does  it  stand  at  the 
junctiMii  ol"  the  northern  and  western  ranges  of  the  Catskills  ; 
and  as  its  huge  form  looms  against  the  evening  sky,  it  inspires 
one  Mith  awe,  as  ii'  it  were  the  ruler  of  the  world: — yet  I 
Jiave  learned  to  love  it  as  a  friend.  1  have  pondered  upon 
its  impressive  features  when  reposing  in  the  noontide  sun- 
shine, when  enveloped  in  clouds,  when  holding  communion 


^M 


SOITII  PEAK. HUNTER  S  HOLE. 


19 


I 


with  the  most  holy  nit^ht,  and  whoii  trrmhlinji  under  the  in- 
lliH'iUM^  of  :i  thunder-storm  and  enririded  hy  a  rainl)0\v.  It 
has  1i11<m1  my  soul  with  imaijes  of  heauty  and  suhliniity,  and 
made  ine  feel  tlie  omnipotenee  of  God. 

A  day  and  a  niirht  was  it  lately  my  priviletre  to  spend 
upon  this  mountain,  aeeompanied  hy  a  poet  friend.  We 
started  at  an  early  hour,  equipped  in  our  hrown  fustians,  and 
laden  with,  well-filled  knapsaeks — one  with  a  hatchet  in  his 
belt,  and  the  other  with  a  hraee  of  pistols.  We  were  hound 
to  the  extreme  summit  of  the  peak,  where  we  intended  to 
spend  the  niuht,  \vitness  the  risiuff  of  tlie  sun,  and  return  at 
our  leisure  on  the  following  day.  Ikit  when  I  tell  my  read- 
ers that  our  course  lay  right  up  the  almost  per{)endicular  side 
of  the  mountain,  where  there  was  no  path  save  that  ibrmed 
hy  a  torrent  or  a  hear,  they  will  readily  believe  it  was  some- 
what rare  and  romantic.  IJut  this  \vas  what  we  deli";hted 
in  ;  so  we  shouted  "excelsior!"  and  commenced  the  ascent. 
'J'he  air  was  excessively  sultry,  and  the  very  first  eHort  we 
made  caused  the  perspiration  to  start  most  profusely.  Up- 
ward, upward  was  our  course,  now  climbing  throuirh  a  tan- 
gled tiiicket,  or  under  the  spray  of  a  cascade,  and  then,  auain, 
supporting  ourselves  by  the  roots  of  saplinirs,  or  scrambling 
under  a  fallen  tree  ; — now,  like  the  samphire  gatherer,  scaling 
a  precipice,  and  then  again  clambering  over  a  rock,  or  "  shin- 
ninir'*'  up  a  hemlock  tree  to  reach  a  desired  point. 

Our  lirst  halt  was  made  at  a  singular  spot  called  "  Hunter's 
Hole,"  which  is  a  spacious  cavern  or  pit,  forty  feet  deep, 
and  twenty  wide,  and  approached  only  by  a  fissure  in  the  moun- 
tain, sudiciendy  large  to  admit  a  ma  ,.  Connected  with  this 
place  is  the  following  story.   Many  years  ago,  a  farmer,  resid- 


ing at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  havintr  missed  a  favorite  d 


^g. 


and  being  anxious  for  his  safety,  called  together  his  neighbors, 
and  olVered  a  reward  for  the  safe  return  of  his  canine  friend. 
Always  ready  to  do  a  kind  deed,  a  number  of  them  started 


20 


A  TOUR  TO  THE    RIVER  SAGUENAY. 


in  (lilTeroiit  directions  for  th(^  limit.  A  barking  sound  having 
been  heard  to  isf?uo  from  tiiis  eavern,  it  was  discovered,  and 
at  the  bottom  of  it  the  kjst  dog,  which  had  probably  fallen 
therein  while  cliasiii(r  a  fox.  "  liiit  how  shall  he  be  extri- 
cated IVoni  this  hole?"  was  the  general  in({iiiry  of  the  now 
assembled  hunters.  Not  one  of  all  the  group  would  venture 
to  descend,  under  any  circumstances  ;  so  that  the  poor  animal 
remained  a  prisoner  for  another  night.  IJut  the  next  morn- 
ing he  was  releascul,  and  by  none  other  than  a  brave  boy, 
the  son  of  the  farmer  and  playmate  of  the  dog.  A  large 
number  of  men  were  j)rescnt  on  the  occasion.  A  strong 
rope  was  tied  around  the  body  of  the  child,  and  he  was  gently 
lowered  down.  On  reaching  the  bottom,  and  finding,  by  the 
aid  of  his  lamp,  that  he  was  in  a  "real  nice  place,"  the  litUe 
rogue  concluded  to  have  some  sport,  whereupon  he  proceeded 
to  pull  down  more  rope,  until  he  had  made  a  coil  of  two 
hundred  feet,  which  was  bewildering  enough  to  the  crowd 
above  ;  but  nothing  ha])pened  to  him  during  the  adventure, 
and  the  dog  was  rescued.  The  young  hero  having  played 
his  trick  so  well,  it  was  generally  supposed,  for  a  long 
lime  after,  that  this  cavern  was  two  hundred  feet  deep, 
and  none  were  ever  found  sufliciently  bold  to  enter  in,  even 
after  a  beautiful  fox.  The  bravery  of  the  boy,  however, 
was  the  cause  of  his  death,  for  he  was  cut  down  by  a  leaden 
ball  in  the  war  of  1812. 

The  next  remarkable  place  that  we  attained  in  ascending 
South  Peak,  was  the  Bear  Bank,  where,  in  the  depth  of  win- 
ter, may  be  found  an  abundance  of  these  charming  creatures. 
It  is  said  that  they  have  often  been  seen  sunning  themselves, 
even  from  the  hills  cast  of  the  Hudson. 

We  were  now  upon  a  beetling  precipice,  three  hundred 
feet  high,  and  under  the  shadow  of  a  huge  pine,  we  enjoyed 
a  slice  of  bread  and  pork,  with  a  few  drops  of  genuine 
mountain   dew.      Instead  of  a  dessert  of  strawberries   and 


f 


I 


* 


A  TIirXnEU  STORM. 


21 


nream,  liowever,  wo  were  fiiniishod  l)y  vrnorahlo  danio  Na- 
ture with  a  tluiiidor-storm.  It  was  ono  that  wc  had  noticed 
niakiiiir  a  cfreat  eominotioii  in  the  valley  helow.  It  had,  pro- 
hahlv,  discovered  two  hipeds  jroiiiir  towards  its  home,  the 
sky,  and  seemed  to  have  pursned  us  with  a  view  of  iViiiht- 
eninix  I's  hack  aijain.  liut,  "  knowintjf  that  Nature  nev(>r  did 
l)etrav  the  heart  that  loved  her,"  we  awaited  tlu^  thunder- 
storm's r(>plv  to  our  ohstinate  refusal  to  descfMid.  The  cloud 
was  yet  helow  us,  hut  its  unseen  herald,  a  stroni^  east  wind, 
told  ns  that  the  conflict  had  commenc(>d.  Pres(>ntly,  a  peal 
of  thunder  resounded  throuiih  the  vast  profound,  whi(di  caused 
the  mountain  to  tremhh^  to  its  deep  foundation.  And  then 
foUowed  another,  and  another,  as  the  storm  increased  ;  and 
the  rain  and  hail  poured  down  in  floods.  Thinkinir  it  more 
safe  to  expose  ourselves  to  the  storm  than  remain  under  the 
pine,  we  retreated  without  (hday,  when  we  were  suddenlv 
enveloped  in  the  heart  of  the  cloud,  oidy  a  i'cw  rods  distant. 
Tiien  a  stroke  of  lijrhtnini!;  hlinded  us,  and  the  towerinir  fo- 
rest monarch  was  smitten  to  tlu^  earth.  \\v  were  in  the 
midst  of  an  unwritten  epic  poem  ahout  that  time,  hut  we 
coidd  not  appreciate  its  heauties,  for  anotluu"  j)eal  of  thunder, 
and  another  stroke  of  lifrhtninir,  attracted  our  whole  attention. 
8oon  as  these  had  passed,  a  terrilile  irale  followcnl  in  their 
wake,  tumhlinir  down  piles  of  loose  ro(dvs,  and  hemlint;  to  the 
dust,  as  thouiih  in  jiassion,  th(>  resist  inn-  forms  of  an  army  of 
trees;  and  afterwards,  a  «,dorious  rainhow  spanned  \hv.  moun- 
tain, appearinfr  like;  those  distiiiiruishinir  circles  around  the 
temples  of  the  Miirhty  and  Holy,  as  portrayed  hy  the  painters 
of  old.  The  commotion  lasted  for  an  hour,  when  the  rcLnon 
of  the  liear  Ha.nk  h(>came  as  serene  as  the  slumherof  a  hahc. 
A  spirit  of  silent  prayer  was  hroodiiii''  upon  the  earth  and  in 
the  air,  and  with  a  shadow  of  thouuhtfulness    at  our  hearts, 


we  resumed  our  upward  march. 

Our  next  halting  place  was  upon  a  sort  of  peninsula  called 


22 


A  TOUR  TO  THE  RIVER  SAGTIENAY. 


the  Eajrlo's  Nest,  where,  it  is  said,  an  Indian  chiki  was  former- 
ly carried  hy  one  of  those  birds,  and  cruelly  destroyed,  and 
whence  the  frantic  mother,  willi  the  mangled  body  of  her 
babe,  leaped  into  the  terribk)  abyss  below.  From  this  point 
we  discovered  a  host  of  clouds  assembled  in  council  above 
High  Peak,  as  if  discussing  the  parched  condition  of  the 
earth,  anil  the  speediest  mode  of  all'ording  relief  to  a  still 
greater  extent  than  they  had  done;  and  far  away  to  the  west, 
was  anotlier  assembly  of  clouds,  vying,  like  sporting  chil- 
dren, to  outrun  and  overleap  each  other  in  their  aerial  am- 
phitheatre. 

Aflc  this  we  surmounted  another  point  called  Rattlesnake 
Ledge.  Here  the  rocks  were  literally  covered  with  the  white 
bones  of  those  reptiles,  slaughtered  by  the  hunter  in  by-gone 
years,  and  we  happened  to  see  a  pair  of  them  that  were 
alive.  One  was  about  four  feet  long,  and  the  other,  which 
was  only  half  as  large,  seemeil  to  be  the  offspring  of  tlie  old 
one,  for,  when  discovered,  they  were  playing  together  like 
an  affectionate  mother  with  her  tender  child.  Soon  as  we 
appeared  in  their  presence,  the  serpents  immediately  ceased 
their  sport,  and  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  coiled  tbemselves 
in  the  attitude  of  battle.  The  conflict  was  of  short  duration, 
and  to  know  the  result  you  need  onlv  look  into  mv  cabinet 
of  curiosities. 

Higher  yet  was  it  our  lot  to  climb.  We  went  a  little  out 
of  our  course  to  obtain  a  bird's-eye  view  of  a  mountain  lake. 
In  its  tranijuil  bosom  the  glowing  evening  sky  and  mountaiu 
sides  were  vividly  reflected,  and  the  silence  surrounding  it 
was  so  profound  that  we  could  almost  hear  the  ripples  made 
by  a  solitary  duck,  as  it  swam  from  one  shore  to  the  othef^ 
in  its  utter  loneliness.  Very  beautiful,  indeed,  was  this  pic- 
ture, and  as  I  reflected  upon  it,  I  thought  that  as  tiie  Infant 
of  Bethlehem  was   tenderly  protected   by  the  j)arents   who 


MIDNIGHT  ON  THE  MOUNTAINS. 


23 


watrhod  over  its  sliunhers,  so  was  tliis  exquisite  lake  cra- 
dled and  proteeted  in  the  lap  of  the  mountains. 

One  siirht  more  did  we  behold  l)erore  reachinir  the  summit 
of  South  l*eak.  It  was  the  sunset  hour,  aiul  on  a  jutting 
clitl"  whieh  commanded  an  immense  view,  our  eyes  were  de- 
liirhted  by  the  siirht  of  a  di-cr,  standinir  ■''till,  and  lookini^r 
down  u|)on  the  silent  void  below,  which  was  then  covered 
with  a  deep  purple  atmosphere,  causiiiir  the  prospect  to  re- 
semble the  boundless  ocean.  It  was  the  last  of  its  raci'  we 
could  not  but  fancy,  biddinir  the  liuman  world  ^ood  nii^ht, 
previous  to  taking  to  its  heathery  couch  in  a  nanudess 
ravine. 

One  eflbrt  more  and  the  lonix-desired  eminence  was  at- 
tained, and  we  were  a  little  nearer  the  eveninir  star  than  we 
had  ever  been  before.  It  was  now  the  hour  of  twiliuhl,  and 
as  we  were  about  done  over  with  fatiirue,  it  was  not  long 
before  we  had  pitched  our  leafy  tent,  eaten  some  su()p(M-,  and 
yielded  ourselves  to  tiie  embrace  of  sleep,  "  dear  mother  of 
fresh  thouirjits  and  joyous  health  !" 

At  midniixht,  a  cooling  breath  of  air  having  passed  across 
my  face,  1  was  awakened  from  a  fearful  dream,  which  left. 
me  in  a  nervous  and  excited  state  of  mind.  A  straiiLi(,'  and 
solemn  gloom  had  taken  possession  of  my  spirit,  which  was 
greatly  enhanced  bv  the  doleful  song  of  a  iieighl)orin<r  hem- 
lock  grove.  Our  encampment  having  been  mach;  a  little 
below  the  summit  of  the  peak,  and  feeling  anxious  to  behold 
the  prospect  at  that  hour,  from  that  point,  I  awakened  my 
companion,  and  we  seated  ourselves  upon  the  topmost  rock, 
which  was  nearly  bare  of  shrubs,  but  covered  with  a  rich 
moss,  softer  and  more  beautiful  than  the  finest  carpet.  IJut 
how  can  I  describe  the  scene  that  burst  U[)on  our  enraptured 
vision.'  It  was  unlike  anything  I  had  ever  seen  before, 
creating  a  lone,  lost  feeling,  which  I  sup[)Osed  couhl  only  be 
realized  by  a  wanderer  in  an  uninhabited  wilderness,  or  on 


24 


A  TOUR  TO  THE  RIVER  SAOrENAY. 


tlio  oronn,  :i  thousand  long'iios  from  liomo.  Above,  around 
anel  beneath  us,  ay,  far  hcnculh  us,  were  the  eohl  bri<rlil 
stars,  and  to  the  eastward  the  "  young  moon  willi  llie  ohl 
moon  in  her  arms."'  In  the  west  were  floatinj;  a  litth}  band 
of  pearly  elouds,  whicli  I  ahnost  fancied  to  be  winged  eha- 
riots,  and  tliat  tliey  were  crowded  with  (diihlren,  the  absent 
and  h)ved  of  other  years,  wlio,  in  a  frolic  of  blissful  joy,  wvxe 
out  u|)on  the  fields  of  lieaven.  On  on(!  sith;  of  us  reposed 
lh(!  long  broad  valley  of  tlu>  Hudson,  with  its  cities,  towns, 
villages,  woods,  hills  and  plains,  whose  crowded  highway 
was  diminished  to  a  narrow  girdle  of  deep  bhie.  'I'owards 
llie  south,  hill  beyond  hill,  field  beyond  Held  r(!ceded  to  the 
sky,  occasionally  enlivened  by  a  peaceful  lake.  On  our  right 
a  multitudinous  array  of  rugged  mountains  h\y  piled  up, 
apparently  as  imi)assable  as  the  bottomless  gulf.  In  the 
north,  okl  llii^h  J'eak,  King  of  the  Catskills,  bared  his  bosom 
10  the  mooidight,  as  if  demanding  and  expecting  the  homage 
of  tlie  world.  Strange  and  magnillcent,  indeed,  was  the  pros- 
j)ect  from  that  mountain  watch-tower,  and  it  was  with  reluc- 
tance that  we  turned  away,  as  in  duty  bound,  to  sluml)er 
until  the  dawn.  TIh;  dawn!  and  now  for  a  sunrise  picture 
among  the  mountains,  with  all  the  illusive  performances  of 
the  mists  and  (douds  !  He  comes  !  he  comes!  "  the  kinff  of 
the  briiiht  days  !"  Now  the  crimson  and  golden  elouds  arc 
parting,  and  he  bursts  on  the  bewildered  sight!  One  mo- 
ment more,  and  the  whole  earth  rejoices  in  his  beams,  falling 
alike  as  they  do  upon  the  prince  and  the  peasant  of  every 
land.  And  now,  on  either  side  and  beneath  the  sun  an  array 
of  new-born  clouds  are  gathering — like  a  band  of  cavaliers, 
preparing  to  accompany  their  leader  on  a  journey.  Out  of 
the  Atlantic  have  they  just  arisen  ;  at  noon,  they  will  have 
pitched  their  tents  on  the  cerulean  plains  of  heaven  ;  and 
when  the  hours  of  day  are  numbered,  the  far-off  waters  of 
the   Pacific   will   again   receive  them   in   its   cool    embrace. 


(\«% 


t- 


PLAUTERKTLL  CLOVE. 


25 


■I 


"M 


Tiistcn  !  was  not  that  the  roar  of  waves  ■  Naiiirht  hut  the  report 
of  tiiiinik'r  in  tlie  valley  helow.  Are  not  the  two  oeeans  eoniiiiii 
tofrcther  ?  See  !  we  are  on  a  rock  in  the  midst  of  an  illiinita- 
hle  sea,  and  the  tide  is  surelv  risiiiij — risinir  rapidlv  !  Slranije! 
it  is  still  as  death,  and  yet  the  oceans  arc  covered  with  hil- 
lows  !  fiO  !  the  naked  masts  of  a  sjiip,  stranded  on  a  lee 
shore  ! — and  yonder,  as  if  a  reef  were  hidden  there  to  impede 
their  course,  the  waves  are  strnirglin<T  in  desj)air,  now  leaping 
to  tlie  sky,  and  now  plunging  into  a  deep  ahyss  !  And 
when  they  have  passed  the  unseen  enemy,  how  rapid  and 
beautiful  arc  their  various  evolutions,  as  they  hast(;n  to  the 
more  distant  shore  I  Another  look,  and  what  a  change  ! 
The  mists  of  morninjj  are  being  exhaled  by  llic  rising  sun, 
ah'cady  the  world  of  waters  is  dispersed,  and  in  the  valley  of 
the  Hudson,  far,  far  away,  are  reposing  all  the  enchanting 
features  of  the  green  earth. 

We  descended  the  mountain  1)y  a  circuitous  route,  that  we 
might  enjoy  the  luxury  of  passing  through  l*lauterkill  Clove. 
The  same  spring  that  gives  rise  to  Scholiaric  Creek,  which 
is  the  principal  tributary  of  the  Mohawk,  also  <rives  rise  to  the 
Plauterkill.  In  its  very  infancy,  it  begins  to  leap  and  laugli 
with  the  gladness  of  a  boy.  From  its  sourci;  to  tlie  j)lain,  the 
distance  is  only  two  miles,  and  yet  it  has  a  fall  of  twenty-live 
liundred  feet;  but  the  remainder  of  its  course,  until  it  reaches 
the  Esopus,  is  calm  and  pictures(jue,  ami  on  every  side,  and 


at  every  turn,  may  be  seen  the  farm-houses  of  a  sturdy  veo- 


manry 


The  wild  gorge  or  dell  through  which  it  passes,  abounds 
in  waterfalls  of  surpassing  beauty,  varying  from  ten  to  a  hun- 
dred feet  in  height,  whose  rocks  are  green  with  the  moss  of 
centuries,  and  whose  brows  are  ever  wreatluul  with  tiie  most 
exquisite  of  vines  and  Howors.  Here  is  the  double  lea]), 
with  its  almost  fathomless  pool,  "ontaiuing  a  hermit  trout 
that  has  laughed   at   the  angler's  skill  for  a  score  of  years  \ 


20 


A  TOUR  TO  THE   RIVER  SAOUENAY. 


tlic  fall  of  th(!  Moimtuiii  Spirit,  liaiiiitiHl,  as  it  is  said,  by  the 
(lis(Mnl)<)(li('d  spirit  of  an  Indian  <riil,  who  lost  her  lil'e  here 
while  j)iirsiiing  a  phantom  of  the  brain  ;  and  hvvv.  is  the 
IJhie-bell  Fall,  forever  gnarded  by  a  multitudinous  array  of 
those  eharminfi'  ibjwers.  Caverns,  too,  and  ehasins  are  here, 
dark,  de('[),  chilly  and  damp;  where  the  toad,  the  lizard  and 
snake,  and  straiifre  families  of  inseets,  are  perpetually  multi- 
plying, and  actually  seeming  to  enjoy  their  loathsome  lives  ; 
and  here  is  the  Black  Chasm,  and  the  J)evirs  Chamber,  the 
latter  with  a  perpendicular  wall  of  twice  the  height  of  old 
Trinity,  and  with  a  wainscoting  of  pines  and  hemlocks  which 
have  "  braved  a  thousand  years  the  battle  and  the  breeze." 
IMauterkill  Clove  is  an  eddv  of  the  ijreat  antl  tumultuous 
•world,  and  in  itself  a  world  of  unwritten  jioetry,  whose  j)ri- 
mitive  loveliness  has  not  yet  been  disfigured  by  the  inlluenee 
of  Mammon.  It  has  been  consecrated  by  a  brotherhood  of 
friends,  well-tried  and  true,  to  the  pure  religion  of  Nature  ; 
and  after  spending  a  summer-day  therein,  and  then  emerging 
under  the  open  sky,  their  ieelings  are  always  allied  to  those 
of  a  pilgrim  in  a  strange  land,  passing  through  the  dreamy 
twilight  of  an  old  cathedral. 

15ut  it  is  time  that  I  should  change  my  tune,  as  I  desire  to 
record  a  few  fishing  adventures  which  I  have  lately  experi- 
enced among  the  Catskills.  My  lirst  excursion  was  per- 
formed along  the  margin  of  Sweetwater  Brook,  which  flows 
out  of  the  lake  already  mentioned.  My  guide  and  comjianion 
was  a  notorious  hunter  of  this  region,  named  Peter  Hummel, 
whose  services  1  have  engaged  for  all  my  future  rambles 
among  the  mountains.  He  is,  decidedly,  one  of  the  wildest 
and  rarest  characters  I  have  ever  known,  and  would  be  a 
valuable  acquisition  to  a  menagerie.  He  was  born  in  a  little 
hut  at  the  foot  of  South  Peak,  is  twenty-seven  years  of  age, 
and  has  never  been  to  school  a  day  in  his  life,  nor,  in  his  tra- 
vels towards  civilization,  further  away  from  home  than  lifleen 


PFTF.R  HIMMEL. TROTT  FISHING. 


27 


miles.  He  was  cdi'rutvd  lor  a  bark-iralhcrer,  liis  latluM*  aiul 
several  brothers  lia\  iiiir  always  hei'ii  in  the  business  ;  but 
Peter  is  averse  to  eoinmoii-place  labor,  to  auvthitiir.  in  fact, 
that  will  brin^"  lUonev.  W  hen  a  bov  ol'  live  years,  he  had 
an  ijiklin<r  Ibr  the  mountains,  and  onee  had  wandereil  so  lar, 
that  he  was  I'ound  by  his  father  in  the  (\v\\  of  an  old  bear, 
playini(  with  her  cubs.  To  tramp  amomr  the  i]U)untains,  with 
a  gun  and  doi^,  is  Pi'ler's  ehief  and  onlv  happiness.  lie  is, 
probably,  one  of  the  best  specimens  of  a  hunter  now  living; 
and  vcrv  few,  I  fanev,  could  have  survived  the  daniicrs  to 
which  he  has  exposed  himself.  As  to  his  constitution,  he 
seems  to  l)e  one  of  those  iron  mortals  who  never  die  with  age 
and  infirmity,  but  who  generally  meet  with  a  sudden  death, 
as  if  to  recoinjjense  them  for  their  heedlessness.  Hut  with 
all  his  wildness  and  recklessness,  l*eter  Hummel  is  as  amia- 
ble and  kind-hearted  a  man  as  ever  breathed.  He  is  an  ori- 
ginal wit  withal,  and  shrewd  and  vi-ry  laughable  are  many  of 
his  speeches,  and  his  stories  arc  the  cream  of  romance  and 
genuine  mountain  poetry. 

But  to  my  story.  As  usual,  we  started  on  our  tramp  at  an 
early  hour,  he  with  a  trout-basket  in  his  hand,  containing 
our  dinner,  and  I  with  my  sketch-book  and  a  "  })ilgrim  stalf." 
After  a  tiresome  ascent  of  three  hours  up  the  side  of  a  moun- 
tain, over  ledges,  and  through  gloomy  ravines,  we  at  last 
reached  the  wished  for  brook.  All  the  day  long  were  wc 
cheered  by  its  happy  song,  as  we  descended  ;  now  leaping 
from  one  deep  pool  to  another,  and  now  scrambling  over 
green-coated  rocks,  under  and  around  fallen  trees,  and  along 
the  damp,  slippery  sides  of  the  mountains,  until  we  reached 
its  mouth  on  a  plain,  watered  by  a  charming  river,  ami  sprin- 
kled with  the  rustic  residences  of  the  Dutch  yeomanry.  We 
were  at  home  by  sunset,  having  walked  the  distance  of 
twenty  miles,  and  caj)tured  one  hundred  and  lifty  trout,  the 
most  of  which  we  tlistributed  among  the  farm-houses  in  our 


28 


A  TOIR  TO  THE   RIVER  SAOUEN'AY. 


way,  as  wo  rclnnicd.      'J'lip  trout  wore  qiiilo  small,  varying 
from  tliroo   to  ci»rht   ouiicos  in  woitrjit,  and  of  a  dark-brow 


n 


color 


On  anollior  occasion,  I  had  takon  my  skotch-hook  and 
some  lisiiinir  tackle,  and  j^^one  uj)  a  mountain  road  to  tlie  i)anks 
of  Schoharie  (Jreck,  nominally  Ibr  the  j)uri)ose  of  sketching 
a  f(!W  trees.  In  the  very  iirst  hol(>  of  the  stream  into  which 
1  accidentally  peered,  I  discovered  a  large  trout,  lying  near 
the  bottom,  just  above  a  little  bed  of  sand,  whence  rose  the 
bubbles  of  a  spring.  For  some  thirty  minutes  I  watched  the 
fellow  with  a  "  yearning  tenderness,"  but  as  ho  aj)pcared   to 


be  so  very  ha 


ppy 


»  <^' 


ind   I  was   in  a  kindred  mood,  1  thoutrht 


that  T  would  let  him  live.  l*rcsentlv,  however,  a  b(>autilul 
fly  lighted  on  the  water,  which  the  greedy  hermit  swallowed 
in  a  minute,  and  returned  to  his  cool  bed,  with  his  conscience, 
as  I  fancied,  not  one  whit  troubled  by  what  he  had  done. 
Involuntarily  I  bejjan  to  unwind  my  line,  and  havin<j  cut  a 
pole,  and  repeated  to  myself  something  about  "  diamond  cut 
diamond,"  I  whipped    on   a  red   hackle,  and   passed  it  over 


tl 


le   1)00 


1.     The   roiruo   of  a   trout,    however,  saw    me,  an( 


scorned  for  awhile  to  heed  my  line;  but  I  coaxed  and  coaxed 
until,  at  last,  lu;  darted  for  it,  apparently  out  of  mere  spite. 
Something  similar  to  a  miniature  water-spout  immediately 
arose,  and  the  monarch  of  the  brook  was  in  a  fair  way  of 
sharinir  the  same  fate  which  had  befallen  the  innocent  fly. 
I  learned  a  salutary  lesson  from  this  incident,  and  as  I  had 
yieldeil  to  the  temptation  of  the  brook,  I  shouldered  my 
sketch-book  with  a  strap,  and  descended  the  stream.  At 
noon,  I  reached  a  farm-house,  where  I  craved  something  to 
eat.  A  good  dinner  was  given  me,  which,  was  seasoned  by 
many  questions,  and  some  inform:ition  concerning  trout. 
That  afternoon,  in  company  with  a  little  boy,  1  visited  a 
neiijihborinir  stream,  called  the  Roarinij  Kill,  where  I  cautjht 
one   hundred   and  sixty  flsh.     I  then  returned  to  the  farm- 


STOW  CLOVK. CATSKILL   FALLS. 


2U 


;••<? 


iiousc,  and  spent  the  eveninir  in  conversation  with  niv  new 
acquaintances.  Alter  hreakl'ast,  on  the  Ibllowinjr  niorninif,  I 
set  out  lor  homo,  anil  reached  tliero  al)Out  noon,  havini:  made 
only  two  adihlions  to  niv  sketclies.  Lonir  shall  I  renieinher 
th(3  eveninii^  spent  with  this  faniiiy,  and  tiieir  hospitality  to- 
wards an  entire  stranirer.  A  pleasant  family  was  that  night 
atlded  to  my  list  of  iViends. 

Another  ot"  my  troutini,^  j)ilirrima<res  was  to  a  famous  place 
called  Stony  (Jlove,  anionic  the  mountains  of  Shandaken. 
It  is  a  deep  p(?rpendicular  cut  or  jj^orge  hetw(.'en  two  moun- 
tains, two  thousand  feet  in  depth,  from  twenty  feel  to  four 
hundred  in  width,  and  completely  lined  from  hase  to  summit 
with  luxuriant  vetjetation.  It  is  watered  hv  a  narrow  hut 
deep  brook,  which  is  so  full  ol"  trout  that  some  seven  hundred 
were  captured  by  myself  and  two  others  in  a  sinirle  day. 
Wiien  I  tell  my  readers  that  tliis  spot  is  only  about  one  hun- 
dred miles  from  New  York,  they  will  be  surj)rised  to  learn 
that  in  its  immediate  vicinity  we  saw  no  less  than  two  bears, 
one  doe  with  two  fawns,  and  other  valuable  game.  In  some 
parts  of  this  clove  the  sunshine  never  enters,  and  whole  tons 
of  the  purest  ice  may  be  found  there  throughout  the  year. 
It  is,  indeed,  a  most  lonely  and  desolate  corner  of  the  world, 
and  might  be  considered  a  lltting  type  of  the  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death  ;  in  single  tile  did  we  have  to  pass  through 
that  gorge,  and  in  single  tile  do  the  sons  of  men  pass  into  the 
grave.  To  spend  one  day  tliere  we  liad  to  encamj)  tw(j 
nights,  and  liow  we  generally  manage  that  all'air  1  will  men- 
tion presently. 

Jn  returning  from  Stony  Clove,  we  took  a  circuitous  route^ 
and  visited  the  Mountain  Iiousc.  AVe  approached  it  by  way 
of  the  celebrated  Catskill  Falls,  which  I  will  describe  in  the 
graphic  language  of  Cooper,  as  my  readers  may  not  remem- 
ber the  passage  in  his  Pioneer.  ''  Why,  there's  a  fall  in  the 
hills,  where  the  water  of  two  little  ponds,  that  lie  near  each 


30 


A  TOrU  TO  Tlir  RIVKR  SACT'EXAY. 


othor,  breaks  out  of  tlioir  bounds,  luid  runs  ovrr  llio  rock? 
into  the  valley.  'J'lin  stroain  is,  may  l)o,  sucli  a  oiio  as  would 
turn  a  niill,  if  so  useless  a  thiiiir  was  wanted  in  the  wilder- 
ness. Jitff  flifliand  //utf  made  that  *"  Lnip^  nrvrr  maile  a 
mill !  'I'lien  the  water  eomes  eroakinir  ;ind  windiiiix  amonir 
the  rocks,  first  so  slow  that  a  trout  mi^dit  swim  in  it,  and 
then  startinir  and  runninjr,  like  any  creature  that  wanted  to 
make  a  fair  sprinj^,  till  it  gets  to  where  the  mountain  divides, 
like  the  eleft  foot  of  a  deer,  leavinj^  a  deep  liollow  for  the 
l)rook  to  tumble  into.  The  first  j)itcli  is  ni<r}i  two  hundred 
feet,  ajid  the  water  looks  like  flakes  of  snow  afore  it  touolies 
tlie  bottom,  and  then  gathers  itself  toirether  asrain  for  a  new 
start,  and,  may  be,  flutters  over  flfly  leet  of  flat  roek,  before 
it  falls  for  another  hundred  feet,  when  it  jumps  from  shelf  to 
shelf,  first  running  this  way  and  that  way,  striving  to  get  out 
of  the  hollow,  till  it  flnally  eomes  to  the  plain." 

Our  party,  on  this  occasion,  consisted  of  three — Peter 
Iluminel.  a  bark-gatherer  and  myself.  I  had  chosen  these 
fellows  for  the  expedition,  because  of  their  friendship  for  me 
and  their  willingness  to  go;  and  I  resolved  to  give  them  a 
"treat"  at  the  "Grand  Hotel,"  which  the  natives  of  this  re- 
gion look  upon  as  a  kind  of  paradise.  You  are  aware,  I 
suppos(\  reader,  that  tlic  Mountain  House  is  an  establishment 
vying  in  ils  style  of  ac^commodations  with  the  best  of  hotels. 
Between  it  and  the  Hudson,  there  is,  during  the  summer,  a 
semi-daily  line  of  stages,  and  it  is  the  transient  resort  of  thou- 
sands, who  visit  it  for  the  novelty  of  its  location  as  well  as 
for  the  surrounding  scenery.  The  edifice  itself  stands  on  a 
clifl*,  within  a  few  feet  of  the  qA^tq^  and  commands  a  prospect 
extending  from  liOng  Island  Sound  to  the  White  Mountains. 
The  first  time  I  visited  this  spot,  I  spent  half  the  night  at  my 
bed-room  window,  w;i  ching  the  fantastic  performances  of  a 
thunder-storm  Air  below  me,  which  made  the  building  tremble 
like  a  ship  upon  a  reef,  while  the  sky  above  was  cloudless, 


THE  MOTXTAIN  HOISE. 


31 


an<l  stiulilrtl  with  stars.  IJotwccn  tliis  spot  and  South  I*i>ak, 
"  them's  tlie  W'ujU  i'cak  and  thi?  Houml  Top,  uliich  lay  l)ac'k, 
like  a  lather  and  mother  anionir  their  chililrcn,  seeinir  tlirv 
arc  far  ahove  all  the  other  hills." 

IJiit  to  i)rocecd.  Coarse! v^  and  cornicallv  dressed  as  we 
were,  we  made  a  very  uni^jue  appearance  as  we  paraded  into 
the  olFice  of  the  hotel.  I  met  ;i  few  aeqiiainlanees  there  to 
whom  I  introdueed  my  eomrades,  and  in  a  short  time  each 
one  was  spinninjr  a  mountain  legend  to  a  erowd  of  deliiihted 
listeners.  In  due  time  I  ushered  them  into  the  dinini(-hall, 
where  was  cnaeted  a  scene  which  can  be  better  imagined 
than  described;  the  fellows  were  completely  out  of  their  ele- 
ment, and  it  was  huighable  in  the  extreme,  to  see  them  stare 
and  hear  them  talk,  as  the  servants  bountifully  ielj)ed  them  to 
the  turtle  soup,  ice-cream,  charlotte  russe  and  other  fasiiion- 
ablc  dainties. 

About  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  we  commenced  desccnd- 
in<T  the  beautiful  mountain-road  leading  towards  the  Hudson. 
In  the  morning  there  had  been  a  heavy  shower,  and  a  thou- 
sand happy  rills  attended  us  with  a  song.  A  delightful  nook 
on  this  road  is  pointed  out  as  the  identical  spot  where  Rip 
Van  Winkle  slept  away  a  score  of  his  life.  I  reached  home 
in  time  to  spend  the  twilight  hour  in  my  own  room,  musing 
upon  the  much-loved  mountains.  I  had  but  one  companion, 
and  that  was  a  whippoorwill,  which  nightly  comes  to  my 
window-sill,  as  if  to  tell  me  a  tale  of  its  love,  or  of  the 
woods  and  solitary  wilderness. 

But  the  most  unique  and  interesting  of  my  fishing  adven- 
tures remains  to  be  described.  I  had  heard  a  great  deal  about 
the  good  fishing  allbrded  by  the  lake  already  mentioned,  and 
I  desired  to  visit  it  and  spend  a  night  upon  i'ts  shore.  Hav- 
ing spoken  to  my  friend  Hummel,  and  invited  a  neighbor  to 
accompany  us,  whom  the  people  had  named  "  White  Yan- 
kee," the  noontide  hour  of  a  pleasant  day  found  us  on  our 


32 


A  TOUR  TO  THE    KIVER  SAGUEXAY. 


wiiHlmL^   mnrcl 


and  suL'h  a  irrotos([uc    appearance  as   we 


made    was   exeeeuinu 


ly 


aniusiiiir. 


r 


le   group   was 


111 


ostlv 


(miniated  wlien  climbing  tlie  steep  and  rocky  ravines  whicli 
we  were  compelled  to  pass  throULdu  There  was  Peter, 
"long,  lank,  and  lean,"  and  wild  in  his  attire  and  counte- 
nance as  an  eagle  of  tiie  wilderness,  with  an  axe  in  his  jiand, 
and  a  huge  knapsack  on  his  back,  containing  our  provisions 
and  utensils  for  cooking.  Next  to  him  followed  White 
Yankee,  with  three;  l)lankets  lashed  upon  his  back,  a  slouched 
white  hat  on  his  head,  and  nearly  half  a  pound  of  tol)acco 
in  his  moutli.  Crooked-legged  withal,  and  somewiiat  sickly 
was  this  individual,  and  being  wholly  unaccustomed  to  this 
kind  of  business,  he  went  along  groaning,  grunting,  and 
sweating,  as  if  he  was  "sent  for  and  d'ubi't  want  to  come." 
In  the  rear  tottered  along  your  humble  friend,  dear  reader, 
with  a  gun  u{)on  his  shoulder,  a  powder-horn  and  shot-pouch 
at  his  sitle,  cowhide  boots  on  his  feet,  and  a  cap  on  his  head, 
his  beard  half  an  inch  long,  and  his  llowing  hair  streaming  in 
liic  wind. 

AVe  reached  our  place  of  destination  about  five  o'clock, 
and  halted  under  a  large  impending  rock,  which  was  to  be 
our  sleeping  place.  We  were  cmpiiatically  under  the  "slia- 
do"/  of  a  rock  in  a  weary  land."  Our  first  business  was  to 
build  a  fire,  which  we  did  with  about  one  cord  of  green  and 
dry  wood.  J^'iglity  poles  were  then  cut,  to  which  we  fast- 
ened cur  lines.  The  olil  canoe  in  the  lake  was  bailed  out, 
and,  having  baited  our  ln)oks  with  the  minnows  we  had 
brought  with  us,  we  planted  the  poles  in  about  seven  feet 
water  all  around  the  lake  shore.  We  then  prepared  and  ate 
our  supper,  and  awaited  the  coming  on  of  night.  During 
this  intcu'val  I  learned  from  Peter  the  following  particulars 
concerning  the  lake.  It  was  originally  discovered  by  a 
hunter  named  Shew.  It  is  estimated  to  cover  -.bout  fifty 
acres,  and  in  the  centre  to  be  more  than  two  hundred  feet  in 


a 


' 


PFTKR  AND    UHITF,   YANKFE. 


33 


•S 


doplli.  For  inv  pnrt,  liowovor,  I  do  not  hrliovc  it  rontnins 
ovvr  five  ncri's,  thoiiijjli  the  mountains  which  towor  on  ovrrv 
side  hut  one,  are  calcuhitcd  to  drccivc  th(^  ('V(>;   hut,  a-^  to  its 


df'pth,  I  could  casuy  laiicy  it  to  ho  hottoinlcss,  lor  the  water 
is  i-cinavkahly  dark.  To  tlic  uumhcr  of  trout  in  this  hdvo 
there  seems  to  be  no  end.  It  is  sui)posed  thcv  reach  it, 
wh(Mi  small,  tlironirh  Sweetwater  IJrook,  when  they  increase 
in  size,  and  multij)ly.  It  also  al)Ounds  in  ixvccn  and  scarlet 
lizards,  which  are  a  serious  drawback  to  the  pleasures  of 
the  fastidious  anirler.  I  asked  ]*eter  many  questions  con- 
cerniuix  his  adventures  about  the  lake,  and  he  told  nu;  that 
l!ie  number  of  "harmless  murders"'  he  had  committed  here 
was  about  three  hundred.  In  one  day  ho  shot  thr(>e  deer; 
at  another  time  a  dozen  turkeys;  at  another  twenty  ducks; 
one  niirjit  an  old  bear;  aiul  airain  hall-a-dozen  eooiis ;  and 
on  one  occasion  annihilated  a  den  of  thirty-seven  rattle- 
snakes. 

At  nine  o'clock  we  lighted  a  torch,  and  went  to  examine 
our  lines;  and  it  v/as  mv  rood  fortune  t(^  haul  out  not  less 
than  forty-one  trout,  weiLrhinu"  from  oiu'  to  two  pounds 
a-pieee.  These  w(!  put  into  a  sprint-  of  v(M-y  coUl  water, 
which  bubbled  from  the  earth  a  few  paces  from  our  campini^ 
place,  and  then  retired  to  repose.  Hranclies  of  hendock 
(•onstituted  our  eou(di,  and  my  station  was  between  Peter 
and  White  Yankee.  Little  did  i  dream,  when  I  first  saw 
these  two  bipeds,  that  I  should  ever  have  them  for  my  bed- 
fellows; but  who  can  tell  what  shall  be  on  the  morrow  '.  My 
tViends  were  in  the  land  of  Nod  in  less  than  a  dozen  minutes 
after  we  had  retired;  but  it  M-as  dillicult  for  me  to  i>o  to 
sleep  in  the  midst  of  the  wild  secne  which  surrounded  me. 
There  I  lay,  (lat  on  my  back,  a  stone  imd  my  cap  for  a  pillow, 
and  wrapped  in  a  blanket,  with  my  nose  exposed  to  the 
chilly  niirht  air.  And  what  pictures  did  my  fancy  conjure 
up,  as  I  looked  upon  the  army  of  trunks  around  me,  irlist- 
3 


u 


A  TOUR  TO  THE  RIVER  SAOUENAY. 


enin<r  in  llie  firelight.  One  momcnl  llicy  were  a  troop  of 
Iiifliaiis  Iroiii  the  spirit-land,  coino  to  revisit  again  the  hunl- 
ing-ijroinuls  of  their  fatlicrs,  and  weeping  because  tiie  wliite 
man  had  desecrated  llicir  soil ;  and  again  I  fancied  them  to 
he  a  <'ongress  of  wiUl  animals,  assenihhMl  to  try,  execute, 
and  devour  us,  for  the  depredations  our  lellows  had  commit- 
tc'i  upon  their  ivind  during  the  hist  one  hundred  years.  IJy 
and  hv  a  star  peered  out  upon  me  from  between  thp  branches 
of  a  tree,  and  my  tlioughts  ascended  heavenward.  And  now 
mv  eves  twinkled  and  blinked  in  sympathy  with  the  star, 
and  1  was  a  dreamer. 

An  hour  after  the  witching  time  of  iiiglit,  I  was  starded 
from  my  sleep  by  a  bellowing  halloo  from  Peter,  who  said 
it  was  time  to  examine  the  lines  aijain.  Had  you  heard  the 
echoes  which  were  then  awakened,  far  and  near,  you  would 
liave  thought  yourself  in  enciianted  land.  But  there  were 
/ivini^  answers  to  that  shout,  for  a  frightened  fox  began  to 
bark,  an  owl  commenced  its  horrible  hootings,  a  partridge  its 
drumming,  and  a  wolf  its  howl.  There  was  not  a  breeze 
stirring,  and 

'•Naught  was  scon  in  tlii^  vault  on  high 
But  the  moon  and  tht^  stars  and  a  cloudless  sky, 
And  a  river  ol"  Mhite  in  the  welkin  blue." 

Peter  and  Yankee  went  out  to  haul  in  the  trout,  but  I  re- 
mained on  shore  to  attempt  a  drawing,  by  moonlight,  of  the 
lake  before  me.  The  opposite  side  of  the  mountain,  with 
its  dark  tangled  forests,  was  perfectly  mirrored  in  the  waters 
below,  the  whole  seeming  as  solid  and  variegated  as  a  tablet 
of  Egyptian  marble.  The  canoe  with  its  inmates  noiselessly 
pursued  its  way,  making  the  stillness  more  profound.  In 
the  water  at  my  feet  I  distinctly  saw  lizards  sporting  about, 
and  1  could  not  but  wonder  why  such  reptiles  were  ever 
created.    I  thought  with  the  Ancient  Mariner, 

"  A  thousand  slimy  things  lived  on, 
And  so  did  I." 


4 
'i. 


4 


GAME. 


35 


Again  (lid  we  retire  to  rest,  .sIiiinl,erin<T  i,„til  the  break  of 
day.  We  tiien  partook  of  a  substamial  trout  i)reakfast, 
gatliercd  up  our  plunder,  and  with  about  one  hundred  hand- 
some trout,  started  for  iiome. 

The  aceidcnts  we  met  with  .lurinir  the  niirht  were  harm- 
less,  though    somewhat    ridieulous.     A    paper    of  matches 
which   Peter  carried  in   his    breeches-pocket  took  lire,  and 
gave  him  such  a  scorching  that  he  bellowed  lustily ;— while 
Yankee,  in  his  restless  slumbers,  rolled  so  near  our  watch- 
hre,  that  he  barely  escaped  with  a  corner  of  his  blanket,  the 
remainder  having  been  consumed.      As  for  me  I  only  fell  into 
the  water  among  the  lizards,  while  endeavoring  to  reach  the 
end  of  a  log  which  extended  into  the  lake.     In  descendincr 
the  mountain   we   shot   three   partridges,  and  confoundedly 
frightened  a  fox,  and  by  the   middle  of  the  afternoon   were 
quietly  pursuing  our  several  avocations  among  our  fellow 
men  of  the  lower  world. 


A   ^priiiii  <];iy — The   sky — The   iiKnintiihis — The   str(■;ull^■ — The  woods 
— Tlie  o[)('ii  lu4(Ls — Domestic;  iuiiiiuils — l\ielry — The  poiiUry  yiird. 


:1 
i 

\ 
I 
"r, 
\ 


CIIAl'TEK    II. 


I 


Plautcrkill  Clove.  May. 

May  is  ne:ir  its  close,  and  I  am  still  in  the  valley  of  the 
Hudson.  Sprinir  is  indeed  eonie  n<rain,  and  this,  for  the 
present  year,  has  heen  its  day  ot"  triumph.  The  moment  I 
awoke,  at  (hiwn,  this  mornin«j^,  I  knew  by  intuition  that  it 
would  be  so,  and  I  bounded  from  my  eoueh  like  a  startled 
deer,  impatient  for  the  eool  delicious  air.  8prini^  is  upon 
the  earth  once  more,  anil  a  new  life  is  ^iven  me  of  enjoy- 
ment and  hope.  'J'iie  year  is  in  its  childhood,  and  my 
heart  cliu<2:s  to  it  with  a  svmpatiiv  that  I  feel  must  be  im- 
mortal  and  divine.  What  1  have  done  to-day  I  cannot  tell. 
I  only  know  that  my  body  has  been  tremulous  with  feeling', 
and  mv  eves  almost  blin(U3d  with  sceinyf.  Every  hour  has 
been  frautrht  with  a  new  emotion  of  deliirht,  and  presented 
to  my  vision  numberless  pictures  of  surpassing  beauty.  T 
liave  held  communion  with  the  sky,  the  mountains,  the 
streams,  the  woods,  and  tiic  fields;  and  these,  if  you  please, 
shall  be  the  themes  of  my  present  chapter. 

The  sky!  it  has  been  of  as  deep  an  azure  and  as  serene 
as  ever  canopied  the  world.  It  seemed  as  if  you  could  look 
throui^h   it  into  the  illimitable  home  of  the  angels — could 


^ 


% 


SPRING. 


37 


V, 


1 


almost  hrliold  tho  irlnry  wliicli  snrrouiuls  tlie  Invisible. 
Throe  clouds  aloiio  liruo  attracUMJ  my  attoiition.  One  was 
tho  ollsprinir  of  the  dawn,  and  oncirclcMl  by  a  rim  of  irold  ; 
\\\p.  next  was  tlie  daiitrlitor  of  noon,  and  white;  as  the  driven 
snow,  anil  \hv  last,  of  cvtMiinn",  and  robed  in  de(>j)(:st  crimson. 
AV^ivward  and  co(iucltisli  creatnrt\s  were  these  (doudsl  their 
chief  ambition  seemed  to  be  to  disj)lay  their  charms  to  the 
best  advantafrc,  as  if  conscious  of  their  loveliness;  and,  at 
sunset,  when  the  li^ht  lay  ])illowed  on  the  mountains,  it  was 
a  joyous  si<rhi  to  see  them,  side  by  side,  like  three  sweet 
sisters,  as  they  were,  ifo/;?:*"  home.  Each  one  was  anxious 
to  favor  tho  world  with  its  own  last  smile,  and  by  their 
chnuniufr  places  so  often,  you  would  have  thoiiLiht  they 
were  all  unwilliii<r  to  depart,  liut  they  w(>re  the  ministers 
of  the  sun,  and  he  would  not  tarry  for  them;  and  while  lie 
beckoned  them  to  ibllow  on,  the  eveniiiir  star  took  bis  sta- 
tion in  the  sky,  and  bade  them  depart;  and  when  1  looked 
aL^'ain,  they  were  jLTone.  Never  more,  thouirhl  J,  will  those 
clouds  1)0  a  sonrce  of  joy  to  a  human  heart.  And  in  this 
respect,  also,  they  seemed  to  me  to  be  the  end)lems  of  those 
beautiful  but  thouiihtless  maidens,  who  spend  the  llower  of 
vouth  triflinrr  Avith  the  afl'ections  of  all  whom  thev  have  the 
power  to  fascinate. 

The  mountains!  in  honor  of  the  season  which  has  just 
clothed  them  in  the  ricdiest  irreen,  they  have,  this  day,  dis- 
played every  one  of  th(>ir  varied  and  interostinfr  charms.  At 
noon,  as  I  lay  under  the  shadow  of  a  tree,  watchinir  them 
"  with  a  look  made  of  all  sweet  accord,"  my  face  was  fresh- 
ened by  a  breeze.  It  appeared  to  come  from  the  summit  of 
South  Peak,  and  to  be  the  voice  of  the  Catskills.  I  listened, 
and  these  were  the  words  wiiicli  echoed  throuLdi  my  ear. 

"  Of  all  the  seasons,  oh  8j)rinL,'' !  thou  art  the  nn)st  be- 
loved, and,  to  us,  idways  the  most  welcome.  Joy  and  glad- 
ness ever  attend  thy  coming,  for  we  know  that  the  '  winter  is 


38 


A  TOI'R  TO  THE    RIVER  SAOFENAV. 


past,  tlie  rains  are  over  and  {,fone,  ifio  time  of  llie  singing 
ol"  birds  is  come,  and  llie  voice  of  the  turtle  is  heard  in  our 
land.'  And  we  know,  too,  that  from  thy  hands  (low  unnum- 
bered  blessings.  Thou  soflenest  the  earth,  that  the  husband- 
man may  sow  his  seed,  which  shall  yield  him  a  thousand 
Ibid  at  the  harvest.  'IMiou  releascst  the  rivers  from  their  icy 
fetters,  that  the  wings  of  commerce  may  be  unfurled  once 
more.  'J'hou  givest  food  to  the  cattle  upon  a  thousand  hills, 
that  they,  in  their  turn,  may  furnish  man  with  necessary  food, 
and  also  assist  him  in  his  domestic  labors.  Thou  coverest 
the  earth  with  a  garniture  of  freshest  loveliness,  that  the 
senses  of  man  may  be  gratified,  and  his  thoughts  directed  to 
II im  who  hath  created  all  things,  and  pronounced  them  good. 
And,  finally,  thou  art  the  iiope  of  the  year,  and  thine  admo- 
nitions, which  are  of  the  future,  liave  a  tendency  to  emanci- 
pate the  thoughts  of  man  from  this  world,  and  the  troubles 
which  may  surrouiul  him  here,  and  tix  them  upon  that 
clime  where  an  everlasting  s])ring  abides."  "  The  voice 
in  my  dreaming  ear  melted  away,"  and  I  heard  the  roaring 
of  the  streams,  as  they  fretted  their  way  down  the  rocky 
steeps. 

The  streams!  such  "trumpets"  as  they  have  blown  to- 
day would,  I  am  afraid,  have  caused  Mr.  Wordsworth  to 
exclaim: 

''  The  cataracts — make  a  dcvUish  nohc  up  yonder, '^^ 
The  fact  is,  as  "  all  the  earth  is  gay,"  and  all  the  springs 
among  the  mountains  are  "  giving  themselves  up  to  jollity," 
the  streams  are  lull  to  overflowinir,  and  rush  along  with  a 
"  vindictive  looseness,"  because  of  the  burden  they  have  to 
bear.  The  falls  and  cascades,  which  nudvc  such  exquisite 
pictures  in  the  summer  months,  arc  now  fearful  to  behold, 
for,  in  their  anger,  every  now  and  then  they  toss  some  giant 
tree  into  an  abyss  of  foam,  which  makes  one  tremble  with 
fear.      But  after  the  streams  have  left  the  mountains,  and  are 


AN  EMRLEM. 


39 


runninjT  throuL'^h  tlio  !)ott()in  liiiids,  thcv  still  appear  to  he  dis- 
pleased with  sometllillL^  and  at  cvcrii  funi  tli(\v  take,  (h/rc 
into  the  "  bowels  of  the  Iwrmless  earth,'"  makiiiiX  it  daiiLrer- 
ous  for  the  anirler  to  approach  too  near,  hut  reiulerinir  the 
hauTitofthe  trout  niort^  spacious  and  commodious  tlian  hel'ore. 
'I'he  streams  are  about  the  onlv  thiui^s  I  cannot  ])raise  lo-day, 
and  I  hope  it  will  no!  rain  tor  a  month  to  come,  if  this  is 
the  way  they  intend  to  act  whenever  wi;  have  a  number  of 
dcliLditful  showers. 

'I'lie  woods!      A   iroodly  portion  of  the    day  have  1   spent 
in  one  of  their  most  secret  recesses.     I  went  with  Shakspeare 
under  my  arm  ;   but   1  could  not  read    anv  more  than  tly,  so 
I   stretched    mvself  at   full  leuL'th  on  a  huire  IolS  and   kept   a 
sharp    look-out  lor   anvthinir    that  miiiht   seiul   me   a  wakinjr 
dream,     'i'he  brotherhood  of  trees  (dustered  around  me.  laden 
with    leaves    just   bursting-  into   I'ull   maturity,  and  possessiuL'" 
that  delicate  and  jieculiar  oreen  which  lasts  but  a  sinole  day, 
and  never  returns.      A  tilful   bree/e   swept  ihrouLdi   them,  so 
that  ever  and  anon    T    fancied   a  iiushinu"  fountain  to  be  near, 
or    that    a  company  of  ladies  iair  was  come  to  visit  me.  and 
that  I  heard  the  rustle  of  their  silken   kirtles.     And  now  mv 
eyes   rested    on   a  tree   that  was  (Mitirtdy  lealless,  and  almost 
without   a   limb.      Instead  of  grass  at  its  foot,  was  a   hea[)  of 
dry  leaves,  aiul  not  a  bush  or  a  vine  trrew  anywhere  lu'ar  it; 
but  arourul  its  neiirhbors   thev  orow  in   irreat  abuntlance.      It 
s(>enied    branded  with    a   curse;   ah)iu',  forsaken  of  iis   own. 
and  despised  by  all.      Can   this,  tbouirbt   [,  be  an  emblem  of 
any  human   beini:  ?      Stran<ie    that  it  should  be,  but  it  is  ne- 
vertheless  too  true.     Only  one  week  airo,  I  saw  a  poor  mise- 
rable maniac,  bound  hand  and  foot,  driven   from  "  honu!   and 
all    its   trcnisures,"'  and  carried  to   a  dark,  damp  prison  house 
in  ii  neiirhborini^  town.     I  can   be  recoju'ib'd  to  the  mystery 
of  a  poisotious  reptile's  existence;   but  it  is  very  hard  to  un- 
derstand for  what  irood    purpose  a  maniac  is  crcateil.     Ano- 


I 


40 


A  TOUR  TO  THE  RIVER  SAGIEXAY 


llu'i*  ()I)i({-t  I  iiolieod,  uas  :i  little  truo  about  five  feet  hififh, 
eonij)l(!t(ly  eovered  with  blo.ssoiii.s  ol"  a  (raiiily  lino.  At  first, 
I  tiicil  to  fratluM'  soiijt'thiiig-  j)octicul  out  oi"  this  thiui^,  but 
Avith  all  my  endeavors  I  could  not.  It  eausetl  uie  a  real 
liearly  lau<;h,  as  the  idea  exj)andcd,  lor  it  reminded  me  of  a 
eertain  maid(.'n  lady  of  my  aecjuaintauee,  who  is  old,  ainntcih 
verv  iond  of  tall  mc/i,  and  alwavs  strutlin<r  an)oni{  her  i'el- 
lows  under  a  weii^ht  i)i'  /'( tcclri/.  IJul  oh!  wliat  beautiful 
llowers  did  1  notice  in  that  sliady  tjrove,  whose  whispering 
tilled  nie  with  deliuhl !  'J'heir  names.'  I  cannot  tell  them 
to  you,  lair  reader — they  oi(u;ltl  to  have  no  names,  any  more 
than  a  cloud,  or  a  foam-hell  on  the  river.      Some  were  blue, 


some  Av 


hit 


e,  some 


purj 


)ie 


uul   som 


e   scarlet.     There   were 


litU( 


e  narlies  of  them  on  every  side,  and  as  the  wind  swayed 


P 


tlieir  deli 


eir  delicate  stems,  1  could  not  but  lancy  they  were  living 
creatures  ;  tlie  j)ersonified  thoughts,  perhaps,  of  happy  and 
innocent  chihlrt;n.  Occasionally,  too,  I  noticed  a  sort  of 
straggler  peeping  at  me  from  beside  a  hillock  of  moss,  or 
from  under  the  branches  of  a  fallen  tree,  as  if  sur])rised  at 
my  temerity  in  entering  its  s(H'ludetl  haunt.  liirds,also,  w^ere 
around  me  in  that  green-v,ood  saiu;tuary,  singing  their  hymns 
of  praise  to  the;  Father  of  Mercies  for  the  return  of  s])ring. 
The  nests  of  the  females  being  already  built,  they  had  nothing 
to  do  hut  be  happy,  anticij)ating  the  time  when  they  them- 
selves should  be  the  "  dealers-out  of  some  small  blessinus" 
lo  their  helpless  broods.  As  to  their  mates,  they  were  about 
as  independent,  restless,  and  noisy  as  might  be  expected,  very 
much  as  any  rational  man  would  be  who  was  the  husband 
of  a  young  and  beautil'ul  wife. 

But  the  open  llelds  to-day  have  supcraboimded  with  pic- 
tures to  ])lease  and  instruct  the  mind.  I  know  not  wdiere  to 
begin  to  descrii)C  them.  Shall  it  be  at  the  very  threshold  of 
our  farm-house  ?  Well,  then,  only  look  at  those  lilac  trees  in 
the  garden,  actually  top-heavy  with  purple  and  white  llower- 


'\ 


RIRAL  PICTI  RF. 


41 


inir  ])yrnnii(ls.  The  old  farmer  has  just  rut  a  nuiiiher  of  larjjo 
branches,  and  lmvcm  them  to  his  litUe  (hiuuhter  lo  earrv  to 
her  mother,  wlio  will  distrihute  them  helween  tlie  inantle- 
pieec,  the  tahle,  and  iIk'  lire-place  of  the  family  sittiiiijr-room. 
lint  what  ambrosial  odor  is  that  which,  now  salutes  the  senses  ! 
It  comes  not  from  the  variejrated  corner  of  the  !j:;rden,  where 
th(;  tulij),  the   violet,  the  iiyacinth,  the   bluebell   and   the   lily 


ol  the  valley  are  vyiui^  to  outstrip  each  other  in  tluMr  attire  ; 
nor  irom  the  clover-covered  lawn,  besprinkled  with  butter- 
cups, strawberry  blossoms,  and  honeysuckles,  but  from  the 
orchard,  every   one   of  whose   trees  are   completely  covered 


with    snow-white    blossoms.     And   Ir 


om 


tl 


leir    num 


berl 


ess 


])(!tals  emanates  the  murmur  of  bees  as  they  are  busy  ex- 
tractiiiii"  tlie  luscious  honey.  What  an  abundance  of  fruit — 
of  apj)les,  cherries,  peaches  and  ])ears,  do  these  sweet  blossoms 
promise!  ikit  next  week  there  ?y/r/y  be  a  hitler  /Voa'/;  and 
this  is  the  lesson  which  my  lu'art  learns.  Now  that  I  am  in 
the  sprinir-time  of  life,  my  hop(;s,  in  numbers  and  beauty,  arc 
like  the  blossoms  of  trees,  and  I  know  not  but  that  they  may 
even  on  the  morrow  be  withered  by  the  chilly  breath  of  the 
grave.  JJut  let  us  loiter  farlh(>r  on.  The  west(  rn  slope  of 
this  jTcntle  hill  is  equally  divided,  and  of  two  dill'erent  shades 
of  green  ;  one  is  planted  with  rye  and  the  other  with  wheat. 
The  eastern  slope  of  the  hill  has  lat(dy  been  loosened  by  the 
plough,  and  is  of  a  sombre  color,  but  to  my  eyes  not  less 
pleasing  than  the  green.  And  this  view  is  enlivened  with 
ligures  besides — for  a  farmer  and  two  boys  are  planting  corn, 
the  latter  opening  the  beds  with  their  hoes  and  the  former 
droj)i)iii<,!-  in  the  seeil  (which  lu;  carries  in  a  bag  slung  at  his 
side),  and  covering  it  with  his  foot.  And  now,  lluttering  over 
their  heads  is  a  roguish  bobolink,  scoiilini^  about  something 
in  tluMr  fVdkc :  at  a  rcsjjec/fiil  distance,  and  hoppiuir  along 
the  ground,  are  a  number  of  robins,  and  on  the  nearest  fence 
a   meadow-lark  and  bluebird   are   'Mioldinsr  on  for  a  bite."' 


!:■  > 
;  i 


i 


i( 


42 


A  TOrU  TO  THE  RIVER  SAGUENAY. 


Hut  thorn  is  no  end  to  thesn  rural  picturos,  so  I  will  just  take 


my  reader  into  this  neii^hhoriuir  iuoack)W-pasture,  thenee 
into  the  pouhry-yard  ;it  lionic,  aiiti  eouclude  my  present  rhap- 
.sody. 

li 


ero  wo  are 


tl 


ion,  in  the  mu 


dst  of 


various  domestic   ani- 


mals. Yoiuh^r  a  couple  of  l)hiclv  oolts  are  oliasinir  each 
other  in  play,  while  their  venerahlc  mother  (for  they  are 
l)rothers,  thoui^Hi  not  twins)  is  standinjr  a  little  way  oil", 
watohini:  their  antics,  and  twisting  about  her  ears,  as  she 
remomhers  the  happy  days  of  her  own  colt-hood.  Hero  arc 
some  half  dozen  hearty  cows,  lyinir  down  and  <rrazin<f,  each 
one  with  a  "  pledixo  of  allection"  sjxirtinir  about  her.  There 
are  six  or  ei<>iit  oxen,  eatini^  away  as  fast  as  they  can,  while 
one  who  seems  to  be  a  sentinel,  occasionally  rolls  up  his  eye 
to  see  if  the  farmer  is  coniinuf  to  renew  his  sonfj  of  "  haw  ! 
o-oe !  <roo !  haw!"  lender  the  shadows  of  that  old  oak  is  a 
flock  of  sheep,  with  their  lambs  boundiu"^  beside  them,  as  to 
the  "  tabor's  sound  ;"  but  to  me  there  comes  no  "  tiiouijiu  of 
ffrief "  at  tin*  siijht,  wherein  1  must  be  sudered  to  disairroe 
with  Wordswortii,  to  whom  I  have  already  alluded  once  or 
twice,  and  whose  celebrated  and  most  wonderful  'hIc  has 
been  echoing  iu  my  heart  all  the  day  long.  Some  of  the 
lines  in  it  are  appropriate  to  the  day,  the  charms  of  which  I 
am  attempting  to  make  you  fee/,  reader,  and  you  will  oblige 
me  by  conning  and  inwardly  digesting  the  following  Irag- 
nieats  of  a  whole  and  yet  really  complete  poem  : — 

•' Tlje  MiiisliMie  js  a   ykirjttu.s  liirth."' 


Tlu-,  winds  (Oiae  to  me  IVdiii  the  Jicl(l<  ff  slce^ 


•'■'  Aiul  the  Ijabc  leaps  up  on  liis  iiKither'.s  afiii."' 


'^  Earth  fills  her  lap  with  pleasurori  of  her  own."' 


I 


THE   POFLTRY  VAR. 

"  Full  <(>i,\[  thy  -mil  -hall  ii:i\i'  Ikt  rar      ly  I     JglH. 
And  cil^tuiii   lie  \\[)i>\\  tlirc  \v  itli  a  N\  •■■    lit 
Heavy  a.-  I'atr,  aial  (Ici'p  alin<>.-t  as  lit^'. 


4:i 


''  ( )  j<iy,  that  ill  Diir  fiiilnTs 
Is  Mijiicthiiiu'  that  (I'ltli  livi', 
I'hat  natiii'i'  yet  rciiiciiilMrs 
What  ua-  >(i  t'lijitivc." 


'•'1\)  iiic  the  iiii'aiii'.-t  lliiurr  thai  lilndins,  can  '/ivc 
'I'hoiiLrhts  that  do  (jl'ti'ii  lie  Um  (K'r[i  llir  trars.  " 

Slraniro  that  a  man,  after  dwellitiir  upon  such  poetry,  sliould 
1)0  williiiu;   to   iro    into   a  poullrij  yard.      Hiil   why   not?     I 
woidd    rath(M-  do  this  /ril/inu'/i/  tlian  be  I'onipcllcd,  as  I  liavo 
been,  and  may  1)0  ai>ain,  to  lioar  a   man  say,  after  readinir  to 
him  Wordsworth's   (jWAi  Ode,  "  Wliy!   of  what  f/.sr  is  such 
>iff'J/.'*  what  (h)es  \i  prorr/  will  it  furnish  a  man  with  /tread 
and  huft( r  .'^   will  it  make  the  po/  boil .^'''      The  people  of  the 
poultry-yard  have  heen  in  sutdi  i^lee  to-day,  and   contributed 
so  much  to  the  irladncss  of  the  day,  that  I  must  pay  them   a 
passiufr  tribute.     In  the  llrst  place,  our  old  gobbler,  with  his 
retinue  of  turkey  wives,  has    been   at   the   point  of  burstinir 
with  pride  ever  since  sunrise.     If  the  (Jrand  Sultan  of  Tur- 
key, (who  must  be  the  father  of  all  turkeys,)  cuts   the  same 
kind  of  capers  in  the  presence  of  his  hundred  ladies,  Turkey 
must  be  a  <rreat  country  for  lean  people  to  "  V\\\g\\  and  iirow 
fat."     Our  irobbler  is  a  feathered  personilication  of  .lacdc  Fal- 
stafl",  possessinir  his  prominent  trail  of  cowardice  to  perfeciion. 
I  nourished  a  '-ed  handkerchief  in  his  face  this  morninj^,  and, 
by  the  way  he  strutted  round  and  gobbled,  you  would  have 
thought   he  was   going   to   devour  you.     About  ten  minutes 
after   this,  I    threw  down  a  handful  of  corn,  which  was  in- 
tended for  his   particular  palate.      AVhile  he  was  busy  pick- 
ing it  up,  a  certain  cock  stepped  alongside,  and  commenced 
picking   too.     The   intruder,  having  got  in  the  way  of  the 


■.-.-.^TT-— -.~.^,-„ 1 


44 


A  TOT'R  TO  THE   RIVER  SAOUENAY. 


\ 


H    ii' 


" 


«ro!)l»l(  r,  \v;is  siiddciily  pushed  aside  ;  wliereupon  tlie  <rrnlle- 
maii  with  s[)\irs  cliuekled  and  "  sliowed  fiirlit;''  l)ut  llie  jrol)- 
bl(;r  lor  a  moment  lieeded  him  not.  'i'Jiis  tlie  rock  could  not 
hear,  s(»  lie  pounced  uj)on  his  enemy,  and  whipped  him  with- 
out mercvs  until  the  coward  and  fool  ran  away,  with  his  lon<r 
train  of  alVectionate  wives  rollowinir  behind. 

The  cocks,  hens  and  (thickens  which  have  fiuured  in  the 
yard  to-day,  would  more  than  number  a  hundred  ;  and  such 
cacklin<r,  crowin<r,  clnicklin^r,  and  cryinjic  'is  they  have  made, 


was  anvthmjr   hut  a 


?» 


cnncnnl  ol  sweet  sounds."  Hut  the 
creatures  have  been  happy,  and  it  was  therefore  a  pleasure 
to  look  at  them.  A  youiii^  hen,  this  morninir,  made  her  lirst 
app(!aran(;e  Aviih  a  lar<rc  brood  of  cliickens,  yellow  as  <rold, 
and  this  caused  quite  a  sensation  amonjr  the  feathered  hus- 
bands irenerally.  The  mother,  as  she  rambled  about,  se(>med 
to  say,  by  lier  ])omj")Ous  air,  to  her  daughterless  friends — 
"  Ar'n't  they  beautiful .'  don't  vou  wish  you  had  a  IViw  ?" 
It  was  also  very  funny  to  sec  with  what  looks  of  astonish- 
ment the  youthful  cocks  surveyed  these  "  infant  phenome- 
nons."  As  to  our  ducks,  and  geese,  and  guinea-hens, 
they  have  minded  their  business  very  well — the  two  former 
paddling  about  the  creek  and  mud-puddles,  and  the  latter, 
"between  meals,"  roaming  at  large  through  the  orchard  and 
garden,  altogether  the  most  beautiful  and  rational  of  the  lea- 
thered tribes. 

A  mountaineer,  who  is  to  take  this  queer  record  to  the 
post-ollice,  is  waiting  for  me  below,  and  1  must  close, — hop- 
ing that  the  country  pictures  I  have  endeavored  to  sketch, 
may  have  a  tendency  to  make  you  feel  a  portion  of  that  joy 
which  has  characterized  this  delightful  Spring  Day. 


% 


CHAPTER    I  IT 


Tlu."  Cora  IMaiiting  Bee, 


Pliiuterkill  Clove,  May. 

The  people  who  inhabit  that  section  ol'  romitry  lyiiij^  be- 
tween the  Catskill  Mountains  and  tlie  Hudson  Kiver,  are 
un(loul)te(lly  the  let^itiniate  descendants  ot"  the  lar-fanicd  Kip 
Van  Winkle.  Dutch  blood  llowclh  in  their  veins,  and  their 
names,  appearance,  manners,  are  all  Dutch,  and  J)ut('li  only. 
The  majority  of  them  are  eiiiraijed  in  tillinir  the  soil,  and  as 
they  seem  to  be  satislied  with  a  bare  competency,  the  peace- 
lulness  of  their  lives  is  only  equalled  by  their  ignorance  of 
l)Ooks  and  the  world  at  larf^e.  Tlie  heiirht  of  their  ambition 
is  to  enjoy  a  frolic,  and  what  civilized  people  understand  by 
that  term,  they  designate  a  Bee.  Not  only  have  they  their 
wedding  and  funeral  bees,  but  they  commemorate  their 
agricultural  labors  with  a  i)ee,  and  of  lliese  the  corn  planting 
bee,  which  I  am  about  to  describe,  is  a  specimen. 

A  certain  old  Dutchman  of  my  acquaintance  had  so  long 
neglected  die  field  where  he  intended  to  plant  his  corn,  that 
he  found  it  necessary  to  retrieve  his  reputation  by  getting  up 
a  bee.  He  therefore  immediately  issued  his  invitations,  and 
at  two  o'clock  on  the  appointed  day,  about  seventy  of  his 
neighbors,  including  men  and  women,  made  their  appear- 
ance at  liis  dwelling,  each  one  of  them  furnished  with  a  hoe 


40 


A  TOUU  TO  TIFF.   RIVKR  SAGTKNAV. 


and  a  small  i)a<r  to  carry  the  seed.  After  siij)j)lyiii!^r  jiis  (rucsts 
with  all  tlipy  \vaiit(;d  in  tin;  way  oi'  .s/jtrihat/  dv'iuk.,  i>!v  friend 
(^ave  tlicj  .sio:nal,  and  sli()idderini(  a  iarj^e  hoe,  started  ofV  for 
th  '  lield  of  action,  closely  I'ollowed  hy  his  neiiihhors,  wlio 
fell  to  work  (jiiite  Instily.  'J'he  field  was  larire,  but  as  the 
laborers  were  nuinerons,  it  was  entirely  |)lanted  at  least  two 
honrs  before  sunset,  when  the  party  was  disbanded,  with  the 
express  nnderstandinir  reslinii"  npon  their  ininds  that  they 
shoidd  invite  their  children  to  the  dance,  which  was  to  take 
j)lace  in  the  evenin<r  at  the  l)ee-iriver's  residence. 

'J'he  house  of  my  farmer  friend  havinsr  been  oriLnnally 
built  Ibr  a  tavern,  it  liaj)j)ened  to  contain  a  lartre  l)all-ro()m, 
and  on  this  occasion  it  was  strij)ped  of  its  beds  and  bcddin(r, 
and  the  walls  thereof  decked  iVom  top  to  bottom  with  o-reen 
brandies  and  an  occasional  tallow  candle,  and  conspicuous 
at  one  end  of  the  hall  was  a  refreshment  establishment,  well 
supplied  with  pies,  gingerbread,  molasses  candy  and  segars, 
and  with  an  abundance  o[  colored  alcohols.  The  number  of 
young  men  and  women  who  came  together  on  this  occasion 
was  about  one  hundred,  aiul  M'hile  they  were  trimming  for 
the  approaching  dance,  the  musician,  a  long-legged,  huge  and 
bony  l)ut(dunan,  was  tuniuii;  a  rustv  liddle.  The  lliirtv 
minutes  occupied  by  him  in  this  interesting  business  were 
employed  by  the  male  portion  oi"  the  guests  in  "  wetting  their 
whistles."  The  dresses  worn  on  this  occasion  M'ere  emi- 
nently rustic  and  unique.  Those  of  the  gentlemen,  for  the 
most  i)art,  were  made  of  coarse  gray  cloth,  similar  to  that 
worn  by  the  residents  on  lilackwelPs  Island,  while  the  ladies 
were  arrayed  in  white  cotton  dresses,  trimmed  with  scarlet 
ribbon.  Pumps  being  out  of  vogue,  cowhide  boots  were 
worn  by  the  former  and  calf  brogans  by  the  latter. 

All  things  beiiv-r  now  ready,  a  terribly  loud  screech  came 
from  the  poor  little  liddle,  and  the  clattering  of  lieels  com- 
menced, shaking  the  building  to  its  very  foundation.  "  On  with 


i 


A   HALL 


47 


rlic  (laiH'c,  let  jov  hi-  iiiifoiiliiicil,"  sccnu'd  to  he  llie  inotlo  ol 
all  present,  aiul  iVoiii  the  start,  there  si^cineil  to  he  a  strife 
hetweeii  the  iiiah;  and  lemale  thiiieers   as  to  who  shouhl  h'ap 


the  hiiiliest  and  make  tlie  most   noise 


1) 


esneratc   were; 


tl 


10 


■llbrlr 


s   ol   the   miisieian,  as   lie  lohed   away  upon   his   mstni 


meiit,  keepinir  discord    with    Ins 


/ 


heeh 


ami    e\-erv    iinu.s 


ual 


wail  ol'  the  luhlle  was  the  ibreriinner  ol'  a  shower  (^T  sweat, 
wlii(di  came  roilinir  oil"  the  tiddler's  I'aee  to  the  lloor.  And 
then  the  joyous  delirium  ol  the  musician  was  eommimieated 
to  the  daneers,  and  as  the  danee  })roreeded,  their  ellbrts   be- 


came sti 


mo 


re   desperate :  the 


women    wi-( 


11 V  th 


rew 


Ih 


hack 


d 


leir  hair,  ami  many  ol  the  men  took  oil  their  coats,  am 
rolled  up  their  shirt  sleeves,  for  tlu;  purpose  of  keepinir  cool. 
In  spilt!  of  every  ellbrt,  howev(>r,  the  faces  of  the  dancers 
bccanu!  ([uile  red  with  the  rare  excitement,  and  iht;  hall  was 
filled  with  a  kind  of  heated  foir,  in  which  the  lirsl  "break- 
down"  of  tlu!  evenintr  concluded. 

Then  followed  the  refreshment  scene.  Tln^  men  drank 
wliisky  and  smoked  cijrars,  while  the  women  feasted  on 
mince  pics,  drank  small  beer,  and  smdvcd  molassi^s  candy. 
Some  of  the  smaller  men  or  boys,  who  were;  too  lazy  to 
dance,  sneaked  oil"  into  an  out-of-the-way  room,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  pittdiinir  pennies,  while  a  few  couples,  who  were 
victims  to  the  tender  passion,  retired  to  some  cozy  nook  to 
bask  unobserved  in  each  other's  smiles. 

JJut  now-  the  screechinir  fiddle  is  a<rain  lieard  above  the 
murmur  of  talking  and  lau^hin^-  voices,  and  another  rush  is 
made  for  the  sanded  lloor.  Another  dance  is  then  enjoyed, 
diU'erinir  from  the  one  already  described  only  in  its  increased 
extravagance.  After  sawini^  away  for  a  \o\vj  time  as  if  for 
dear  life,  the  musician  is  politely  retjuested  to  play  a  new 
tunc.  Promptly  does  lie  assent  to  the  proposition ;  but  having 
started  on  a  fresli  key,  he  soon  falls  into  tlio  identical  strain 
which  had  kept  him  busy  for  the  previous  liour;  so  that  the 


48 


A  TOUR  TO  THE  RIVER  SAGUENAY. 


pliiloRophic  listener  is  compelled  to  conclude  either  that  the 
fiddler  cannot  play  more  than  one  tunc,  or  that  he  has  a  par- 
ticular passion  for  the  monotonous  and  nameless  one  to 
which  he  so  closely  clintrs.  And  thus  with  many  indescrib- 
able variations  docs  the  ball  continue  throuixhotit  the  entire 
night. 

I  did  not  venture  to  trip  the  "  liofht  fantastic  toe"  on  the 
occasion  in  question,  but  my  enjoyment  as  a  calm  spectator 
was  very  amusinjr  and  decidedly  oriijinal.  Never  before  had 
I  sc(!n  a  greater  amount  of  labor  performed  by  men  and 
women  in  the  same  time.  1  left  this  interesting  asscml)ly 
about  midnight,  fully  satisfied  with  what  I  had  seen  and 
heard,  but  I  was  afterwards  told  that  I  missed  more  than 
*'half  the  fun." 

When  the  music  was  loudest,  so  it  appears,  and  the  frenzy 
of  the  dance  at  its  climax,  a  select  party  of  Dutch  gentlemen 
were  suddeidy  seized  with  an  appetite  for  some  more  sub- 
stantial food  than  any  that  had  yet  been  given  them,  'rhcy 
held  a  consultation  on  the  important  sul))ect,  and  finally  agreed 
to  ransack  the  garret  and  cellar  of  their  host  for  the  purpose 
of  satisfying  their  jiatural  desires.  In  the  former  place  they 
found  a  good  supply  of  dried  beef,  and  in  the  latter,  a  few 
loaves  of  bread  and  a  jar  ol'  rich  cream,  upon  which  ihey 
regaled  themselves  without  favor,  but  with  some  fear.  The 
giver  of  the  bee  subsequently  discovered  what  had  been  done, 
and  though  somewhat  more  than  "  three  sheets  in  the  wind," 
slyly  sent  for  a  pair  of  constables,  who  soon  made  their 
appearance,  and  arrested  the  thieving  guests,  who  were  held 
to  bail  in  the  sum  of  fifty  dollars  each.  I  was  also  informed 
that  the  dance  was  kepi  up  until  six  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
and  that  the  appearance  of  my  friend's  establishment  and 
the  condition  of  his  guests  at  seven  o'clock  were  ritliculoiis  in 
the  extreme.  A  small  proportion  of  the  bee-party  only  had 
succeedeil  in  starting  for  home,  so  that  the  number  who  from 


1 


CORN'  PLANTING   UEE. 


49 


excess  of  drinkincr  and  luuhic  fatiirue  had  retired  to  repose, 
was  not  nir  from  tliree  score  and  trn.  The  sleepier  accom- 
modations of  the  host  xvcre  limited,  and  the  consT(iuence 
was  that  his  ffucsts  l,ad  to  shift  for  themselves  as  they  hest 
could.  The  lloors  of  every  room  in  the  house,  ineludin^r 
the  pantries,  were  literally  covered  with  men  and  women,— 
some  of  them  moaninir  with  a  severe  headache,  some  hreathin-r 
audibly  in  a  deep  sleep,  and  oUiers  snorinir  in  the  loudes't 
and  most  approved  style.  By  twelve  o'clock  the  interestincr 
company  had  stolen  olF  to  their  several  homes,  and  the  corn 
plantincr  bee,  among  the  Catskills,  was  at  an  end. 


t 


!l 


CHAPTER    IV. 

Luke  Horicou — Sketches  of  its  scenery — Information  f(jr  un'rlers — Sab- 
bath Day  Point — War  memories — The  insect  city — Death  of  a  det'r — 
Rogers'  Slide  —  Diamond  Jslanci — The  snake  charmer — Snake  stories 
— Night  on  llorieon. 

Ltjma)i's  Tavo-n,  June. 

If  circuniPtaiicos  alone  could  make  one  poetical,  then 
might  you  expect  IVoui  me,  on  this  occasion,  a  paper  of  rare 
excellence  and  heauty.  My  sketch-book  is  my  desk ;  my 
canopy  from  the  sunshine,  an  elm  tree ;  tlie  carpet  under  my 
feet,  a  rich  green  sprinkled  with  flowers  ;  the  music  in  my 
ear  of  singing  birds  ;  and  the  prospect  before  me,  north,  east, 
and  south,  the  tranquil  bosom  of  Lake  George,  with  its 
islands  and  surrounding  mountains  ;  whose  waters,  directly  at 
my  side,  are  alive  with  many  kinds  of  fish,  sporting  together 
on  a  bed  of  sand.  Yes,  the  far-famed  Lake  George  is  my 
subject ;  but  in  what  I  write,  I  shall  not  use  that  tide, — for 
I  do  not  like  the  idea  of  christening  what  belongs  to  us  with 
the  name  of  an  English  monarch,  however  much  his  memory 
deserves  to  be  respected.  iSiiall  it  be  Lake  St.  Sacrament, 
then  ?  No  !  for  that  was  given  to  it  by  the  Pope,  and  the 
French  nation.  Iloricon — a  musical  and  appropriate  word, 
meaning  pure  water,  and  given  to  it  by  the  poor  Indian — is 
the  name  which  rightfully  belongs  to  the  lake  which  is  now 
my  theme. 


LAKE   HORICOX, 


51 


^ 
^ 


Tiakc  Iloi-icon  is  one  of  tlic  few  ohjijcts  in  Niitiire  whicii 
(lid  nut  disappoint  nie  after  rea(lin<r  the  ilesoriplions  of  tra- 
vellers. I  vrrily  believe  that,  in  point  of  mere  beanty,  it  has 
not  its  superior  ui  the  world.  Its  len<:ih  is  thirty-four  miles, 
and  its  width  from  two  to  four.  Its  islands  number  about 
three  hundred,  and  vary  from  te'u  feet  to  a  mile  in  lenirlh  ; — 
a  ffreat  many  of  them  art;  located  in  the  centre  of  the  lake, 
at  a  j)lace  called  the  Narrows.  It  is  completely  surrounded 
with  mountains  ;  the  most  prominent  of  whicli  are,  Hlack 
Mountain,  on  the  cast  of  the  iNarrows,  Ton<^ue  Mountain,  di- 
rectly opposite,  and  French  Mountain,  at  the  soulh.ern  extre- 
mity. The  first  is  the  most  lofty,  and  remarkal)h3  for  its  wild- 
ness,  and  the  superb  prospect  therefrom  ;  the  second  is  also 
wild  and  uninhai>ited,  but  distinguished  for  its  dens  of  rattle- 
snakes;  and  the  latter  is  somewhat  cultivated,  but  memorable 
lor  having  been  the  camping-ground  of  the  French  during 
the  Kevolutionary  War.  The  whole  eastern  border  is  yet  a 
com})arative  wilderness;  but  .along  the  western  shore  are 
some  respectable  farms,  and  a  good  coach  road  from  Cald- 
well to  Ticonderoga,  which  allbrds  many  admirable  views 
of  the  sky-blue  lake.  There  are  three  public  houses  here 
which  I  can  recommend  :  the  Lake  House,  for  tlu)se  who 
are  fond  of  company — Lyman's  Tavern  lor  the  hunter  of 
scenery  and  lover  of  quiet — and  CiartleUl's  House  for  the 
fisherman.  A  nice  little  steamboat,  commanded  by  a  gentle- 
man, passes  through  every  morning  and  evening,  (excepting 
Sundays,)  and  though  a  convenient  afiair  to  the  travciUer,  it 
is  an  evesore  to  the  admirer  of  the  wilderness.  Identilied 
with  this  boat  is  an  eccentric  man  named  Old  Dick,  who 
amuses  the  tourist,  and  collects  an  occasional  shilling  by  ex- 
hibiting a  number  of  rattlesnakes.  When,  in  addition  to  all 
these  things,  it  is  remembered  that  Horicon  is  the  centre  of 
a  region  made  classic  by  the  exploits  of  civilized  and  savage 
warfare,  it  can  safely  be   pronounced  one  of  the  most  into- 


52 


A  TOl  K  TO  THE  RIVER  SAGUENAV. 


rcslinir  portions  of  our  ooimtry  for  the  summer  tourist  to 
visit.  1  have  looked  upon  it  from  many  a  peak  whenee  mii^lit 
be  seen  almost  every  rood  of  its  shore.  I  liavc;  sailed  into 
cverv  one  of  its  hays,  and,  lik(?  ihe  pearl-diver,  hav(>  re- 
pealcdly  descended  into  its  ('old  hluc  ehamhers,  so  tliat  1 
have  learned  to  love  it  as  a  faithful  and  well-tried  friend. 
Since  the  day  of  my  arrival  liere,  I  have  kept  a  journal  oi 
my  adventures,  and,  as  a  memorial  of  Iloricon,  I  will  extract 
ihertdVom,  and  cmhody  in   this   chapter    the   followinii   ])as- 


vSages. 


Six  pencil  sketches  have  I  executed  upon  tlie  lake  to-day. 
Oiu'  of  them  was  a  view  of  the  distant  mountains,  whose 
various  outlines  were  concentrated  at  one  point,  and  whose 
color  was  of  that  delicate,  dreamy  hlue,  created  by  a  sun- 
lif^ht  atmosph(>re,  M'ith  tiie  sun  directly  in  front.  In  the  mid- 
dle distance  was  a  Hock  of  islands,  with  a  sail-boat  in  their 
midst,  and  in  the  forej^round  a  cluster  of  rocks,  surmounted 
by  a  single  cedar,  which  appeared  like  the  sentinel  of  a  for- 
tress. Another  was  of  the  ruins  of  Fort  George,  with  a 
background  of  dark-irreen  mountains,  made  quite  desolate  by 
a  llork  of  sheep  sleeping  in  ono  of  its  shady  moats.  An- 
other was  of  a  rowing-race  between  two  rival  fishermen,  at 
i\u)  lime  thev  were  onlv  a  dozen  rods  from  the  goal,  and 
when  every  nerve  of  their  aged  frames  was  strained  to  the 
utmost.  Another  was  of  a  neat  log-cabin,  on  a  quitst  lawn 
near  the  water,  at  whose  threshold  a  couple  of  ragged,  but 
beautiful  children  were  playing  with  a  large  dog,  while  from 
the  (diimney  of  the  house  ascended  the  blue  smoke  with  a 
thousand  fantastic  evolutions.  Another  was  of  a  huire  pine 
tree,  which  towered  conspicuously  above  its.  kiiulred  on  the 
mountain  side,  and  seemed  to  me  an  appropriate  symbol  of 
Webster  in  the  midst  of  a  vast  concourse  of  liis  fellow  men. 
And  the  last  was  of  a  thunder-storm,  driven   away  from  the 


I 

I 


TROIT  FISHIXG. 


53 


nioiiiitnin   lop   i)y  llio    mild   radiance    of  a    rainbow,  vvhirli 
partly  ('Mrir(d(Hl  lloricoii  in  a  lovini^  cinbrace. 


I  iiavc  hoA'w  fisliinir  to-day,  and,  while  endurinir  some  poor 
sport,  indited  in  my  mind  the  followini:'  information,  for  the 
hen(>fit  of  my  piscatorial  friends.  'I'ln;  days  of  trout-fishinj^ 
in  Lake  Iloricon  are  nearly  al  an  end.  A  few  years  a^o,  it 
abounded  in  salmon-trout,  whicii  were  frcNjuently  eauiiiit 
weiuhiuL'"  twentv  })ounds.  liut  their  avcMMii^e  weiulit,  at  the 
present  time,  is  not  more  than  one  pound  and  a  half,  and 
they  are  scarce  even  at  that.  In  taking"  them,  you  llrst  have 
to  obtain  a  sudicient  ([uanlity  of  sapliiiLT  bark  to  reach  the 
bottom  in  sixtv  feel  ol'  water,  to  one  end  of  whitdi  must  be 
fasteiu'd  a  stone,  and  to  the  otiier  a  stiidv  of  wood,  which 
desiLjnates  your  lishinsr-iiround,  and  is  called  a  !)nov.  A.  va- 
riety ol  mor(!  common  tish  ;ire  then  caught,  such  as  smdiers, 
perch,  and  ee!-;,  which  are  cut  up  and  deposited,  some  hall"  a 
peck  at  a  time,  in  the  vicinity  of  the  buoy.  In  a  few  days 
the  trout  will  beuin  to  assemble,  and  so  lonir  as  yon  ke-ep 
them  well  led,  a  brace  of  them  may  be  ca{)turc:d  at  any  time 
duriu'j"  the  summer.  I>ut  the  fact  is,  tliis  is  only  another 
way  for  "•  piiyinu-  too  dear  lor  the  whistle."  TIk;  best  an- 
,<j[lin;'.".  after  all,  is  for  the  common  Ijrook  trout,  which  is  a 
bolder  bitinLf  iish,  antl  l)etter  for  the  table;  than  the  salmon 
trout.  'I'lu!  r;iuse  of  the  jjreat  decrease  in  the  larire  trout  of 
this  lake,  is  this: — in  the  autumn,  when  ihev  have  souiiht  the 
shores  tor  the  ptirpose  of  sj)awninii,  the  neiuii!)orintr  barba- 
rians have  been  accustomed  to  spear  them  by  tortdi-liuht  ; 
and  if  the  heartless  business  iloes  not  soon  cease,  the  result 
Will  be,  that  in  a  few  years  they  will  be  extinct.  'I'liere  are 
two  other  kinds  of  trout  in  the  lake,  however*,  which  vet 
all'ord  irotxl  sport. — the  silver  trout,  (;au<^ht  in  tin;  sumincM', 
aiul  the  lall  trout.  Hut  the  bbudv  bass,  upon  the  whole,  is 
now  mostly  valued    by  the   fisherman.      Thev    are   in   their 


■ft  '^'  im-  ^n'im^mtrmi^itm 


54 


A  TOTIR  TO  THE  RIVKR  SAGUENAY. 


^     I 


primo  in  iho  piinimcr  montlis.  Thoy  vary  from  one  to  five 
pounds  in  wcig-lit ;  are  taken  by  troUino",  and  Mith  a  drop 
lino,  and  allbrd  fiiio  sport.  'I'lifir  haunts  arc  alonj^  the  rocky 
shores,  and  it  is  olicn  the  ease,  tliat  on  a  still  day  you  may  see 
iheni  IVoni  your  hoaf,  swiniininy'  about  in  lierds  Avhere  the 
water  is  twenty  feet  deep.  'J'liey  have  a  queer  fashion,  when 
hooked,  of  leapinir  out  of  the  water,  for  the  purpose  of  irettinjr 
clear,  and  it  is  seldom  that  a  novice  in  the  <rentle  art  can 
keep  them  from  suceeedinjr.  But,  alas  !  their  numbers  also 
are  fast  diminishiiiij^,  by  the  same  means  and  the  same  hands 
that  have  killed  the  trout.  My  advice  to  those  who  come 
here  exclusively  for  the  purpose  of  fisiiiiiir  is,  to  continue  their 
journey  to  the  sources  of  the  Hudson,  Scaroon  liake.  Long 
Lake,  and  liake  Pleasant ;  in  whose  several  waters  there  seems 
to  be  no  end  to  every  variety  of  trout,  and  where  may  be  found 
much  wild  and  beautiful  scenery.  'J'he  angler  of  the  present 
day  will  be  disappointed  in  Lake  Iloricon. 


"When  issuing  from  the  Narrows  on  your  wav  down  the 
Iloricon,  the  most  attractive  object,  next  to  the  mountains,  is 
a  strip  of  low,  sandy  land,  extending  into  the  lake,  called 
Sabbatii  Day  Point.  It  was  so  christened  by  Abercrombie, 
who  encainjied  and  spent  the  sabbaUi  there,  M'hen  on  his 
M'ay  to  Ticonderooa,  wh(>re  he  was  so  sadly  deA^ited.  I 
look  upon  it  as  one  of  the  most  enchanting  places  in  the 
world  ;  but  the  pageant  with  which  it  is  associated  was  not 
only  enchanting  and  ix'autiful,  but  masinificent.  Only  look 
upon  the  picture.  It  is  the  sunset  hour,  and  before  us,  far 
up  in  the  upper  air,  and  companion  of  the  evening  star,  and  a 
host  of  glowing  clouds,  rises  the  majestic  form  of  Plack  Moun- 
tain, enveloped  in  a  mantle  of  rosy  atmosphere.  'I'he  bosom 
of  the  lake  is  without  a  ripple,  and  every  cliO",  ravine  and 
island  has  its  counterpart  in  the  pure  waters.  A  blast  of  mar- 
tial music  from  drums,  fifes,  bagpipes   and  bugle  horns   now 


I 


FORTS  GEORGE  AND  WILLIAM  HENRY 


55 


falls  upon  the  car.  and  the  immense  procession  comes  in 
siflcht  ;  one  tliousnnd  and  thirty-five  iiatteaux,  containiiiij  an 
army  of  seventeen  lliousand  sonls,  headed  i)y  the  hrave  Al)er- 
cromhie  and  the  red  cross  of  Knujland, — the  scarlet  uniforms 
and  glisteniniT  bayonets  forminsr  a  line  of  li<,dit  airainst  the 
darker  hackuroiind  of  the  mountain.  And  behind  a  ioi^  in 
the  fore<rround  is  a  crouchini:  Indian  runner,  who,  with  the 
speed  of  a  hawk,  will  carry  the  tidinirs  to  the  French  nation, 
that  an  army  is  comin<r — "numerous  as  the  leaves  u[Hm  the 
trees.*'  Far  from  the  stranire  scene  fly  the  airrijrhted  deni- 
zens  of  luountain  and  wave, — while  thousands  of  human 
hearts  arc  beating  liappily  at  tlie  prospect  of  victory,  whose 
bodies,  in  a  few  hours,  will  be  food  for  the  raven  on  the  plains 
of  'I'iconderoga. 


A  goodly  portion  of  this  day  have  I  been  musinf^  upon  the 
olden  times,  while  rambling  about  Fort  Gcorire,  and  Fort 
AVilliam  Henry.  liOngand  with  peculiar  interest  did  I  linjrer 
about  the  spot  near  the  latter,  where  were  cruelly  massacred 
the  followers  of  Monroe,  at  which  time  Montcalm  linked  his 
name  to  the  title  of  a  hearUess  Frenchman,  and  the  name  of 
Webb  became  identified  with  all  that  is  justly  despised  by 
the  human  heart.  I  profess  myself  to  be  an  enemy  to  wronjr 
and  outraw  of  every  kind,  and  yet  a  lover  and  defender  of 
the  Indian  race;  but  when  I  picked  up  one  alter  another  the 
fiinty  heads  of  arrows,  which  were  mementos  of  an  awful 
butchery,  my  spirit  revolted  against  the  red  man,  and  for  u 
moment  I  felt  a  desire  to  condemn  him.  Yes,  1  will  condemn 
that  })articular  band  of  murderers,  but  I  cannot  but  defend 
the  race.  Cruel  and  treacherous  they  were,  I  will  allow, 
but  do  we  not  for<ret  the  treatment  they  ever  met  with  from 
the  while  man?  The  most  righteous  of  battles  have  ever 
been  foutiht  for  the  sake  of  sires  and  wives  and  children, 
and  for  what  else  did  the  })oor  Indian  fight,  when  driven  from 


j    i 


56 


A  TOUR  TO  THE  RIVKR  SAGUENAY. 


the  lioine  of  his  youth  into  an  unknown  wiklonuiss,  to  hccornc 
tlicroaftcr  a  hy-wonl  and  a  roj)roac'h  amoni(  the  nations  ? 
"  Indians,"  said  we, ''  we  wouUl  liavc  your  lands,  and  il^  you 
will  not  he  satislied  with  the  ^^cwgaws  we  proller,  our  powder 
and  halls  will  teaeh  you  that  power  is  hut  another  name  for 
ri<(ht."  And  this  is  the  })rinciple  that  has  guideil  the  white 
man  ever  sinc'e  in  his  warfare  ajjainst  the  abori<iin(!s  of  our 
country.  I  eannot  bfdievc  that  we  shall  ever  be  a  happy 
and  prosperous  people  until  the  King  of  kings  shall  have 
forgiven  us  for  having,  with  a  yoke  of  tyranny,  almost  anni- 
hilated an  hundred  nations. 


A  portion  of  this  afternoon  1  whiled  away  on  a  little  island, 
whieli  attracted  my  attention  by  its  charming  variety  of 
foliage,  it  is  not  more  than  one  liundred  feet  across  at  the 
widest  part,  and  is  encircled  by  a  yellow  sand  bank,  and 
shielded  by  a  regiment  of  variegated  rocks.  But  what  could 
I  iind  there  to  interest  me,  it  may  be  inquired?  My  answer 
is  this.  'JMiis  island,  hidtlen  in  one  of  the  bays  of  lloricon, 
is  an  insect  city,  and  more  populous  tlian  was  Rome  in  the 
days  of  her  glory.  There  the  honeybee  has  his  oaken  tower, 
the  wasp  and  humble-bee  their  grassy  nests,  tlie  spider  his 
den,  th(!  butlerily  his  hammock,  the  grassho])per  his  domain, 
the  beetle  and  cricket  and  hornet  their  decayed  stump,  and 
the  toiling  ant  her  palace  of  sand.  There  tiiey  were  born,  there 
they  llourish  and  multiply,  and  there  they  die,  symbolizing  the 
career  and  destiny  of  man.  I  was  a  "  distinguished  stranger" 
in  that  citv,  and  1  must  confess  that  it  jiratilied  my  ambition 
to  be  welcomed  with  sucii  manifestations  of  regard  as  the 
inhabitants  thought  proper  to  besU)W.  My  approach  was 
heralded  by  the  song  of  a  kingly  bee;  and  when  I  had  thrown 
myself  upon  a  mossy  baidv,  multitudes  of  people  gathered 
round,  and,  with  their  eyes  intently  lixed  upon  me,  stood 
still,  and  let  "  expressive  silence  muse  my  praise."     To  the 


»j 


M 


THE  DEATH. 


57 


"  ii:itivos,"  I  \v:is  einpli:itic;illy  :i  sourco  of  tistoiiisliinciit.  and 
as  1  wished  to  uathor  iii.stnictioii  from  \\w  iiK'idcnt,  I  woiulerod 
ill  my  heart  whether  I  woidd  he  a  luf/i/iirr  mail  if  my  preseiiec 
in  a  linman  eity  shouhl  create  a  kindred  exeitement.  .Vl 
any  rate  it  would  he  a  "  irreat  exeitement  on  a  small  capital." 


While  (|iii(!tlv  eatinij  inv  dinner  this  noon  in  the  shadv 
recess  of  an  island  near  lilack  Mountain,  1  was  startled  hy 
the  yell  of  a  pack  of  hounds  eomini;  down  one  of  its  ravines. 
I  knew  that  the  chase  was  after  a  deer,  so  I  waited  in  hreath- 
Icss  anxiety  for  his  appearance,  and  \\\v.  minutes  hail  hardly 
elapsed  hefore  1  discovered  a  noi)le  huck  at  hay  on  the  ex- 
treme summit  of  a  hhi  if  which  extended  into  the  lake.  There 
were  five  doirs  yelpini;  ahout  him,  hut  the  ''  anih'red  monarch" 
fouidit  them  like  a  hero.  Ills  hoof  was  the  most  danirerous 
\veapon  he  could  wield,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  earth 
actually  tremhled  ev(!ry  time  that  he  stru(dv  at  his  enemies. 
Presently,  to  my  (rreat  joy,  one  of  the  hounds  was  killed,  and 
another  so  disahled,  that  he  retired  from  the  contest.  But 
the  hunters  made  their  appearance,  and  I  knew  that  the 
scene  would  soon  come  to  a  trauic  close,  and  when  the  !)U(dv 
heheld  them,  I  could  not  but  helieve  that  over  his  lace  a 
"tablet  of  (ffronizhiii;  thouirhts  was  traced,"  lor  he  fell  upon 
his  knees,  then  made  a  sudden  whc(.'l,  and  with  a  frialitful 
bound,  as  a  ball  J);iss(mI  throuah  his  heart,  clearetl  the  roi'k 
and  fell  into  the  lake  below.  'J'he  waters  closed  ov(u'  him, 
and  methouirlit  that  the  waves  of  lloricon  aiul  the  leaves  of 
the  i'orest  murmured  a  re([uiem  above  the  grave  of  the  wil- 
derness king.  1  turned  away  and  partly  resolved  that  I 
would  never  again  have  a  dog  for  my  friend,  or  respiu-t  the 
character  of  a  hunter,  but  then  I  looked  into  the  crystal  waters 
of  the  lake,  and  thought  of  the  bcauL  in  my  own  eye,  and 
stood  convicted  of  a  kindretl  erueltv. 


58 


A  TOLU  TO  THK  KIVKR  SACJ.JKNAY. 


I 


! 


V    ^ 


OiH!  ol  llic  iiiosi  siiiLHilar  ])rr('ipir(>s  ovcrlookiiiir  Iloricoii 
is  nhonl  liv(;  miles  from  the  outlet,  ami  knouii  as  lioirers' 
Slide.  It  is  some  four  liiimlred  feet  hiifli,  ami  at  one  })oiiit 
not  a  jissiire  or  sj)ri}r  can  he  discovered  to  mar  tin;  polished 
surface  of  the  rock  till  it  reaches  the  water.  Once  on  a  time 
in  the  winter,  the  said  l^»lrers  was  pursued  hy  a  hand  of 
Indians  to  this  spot,  Mlien,  after  throwinir  down  his  knapsack 
he  carelullv  retraced  the  steps  of  liis  snow-shoes  for  a  short 
(hstance,  and  descendiii!^  the  hill  l)y  a  circuitous  route,  con- 
tinu(,'d  his  course  across  the  frozen  lake.  The  Indians,  on 
cominjr  to  the  jumpinu-olf  jdace,  discovered  their  enemy  on 
tlie  icy  j)lain  ;  hut  when  they  saw  the  netrlected  kna])sack 
below,  and  no  siLnis  of  returning;  iootsteps  where  they  stood, 
tliey  thought  the  devil  was  in  the  man,  and  gave  up  the 
pursuit. 


The  most  famous,  aiul  one  of  the  most  beautiful  islands  in 
this  lake,  is  J)iamond  Island,  so  called  from  the  fact  that  it 
abounds  in  crystalized  (}uartz.  it  is  jialf  a  mile  in  length, 
but  the  last  j)lace  which  would  be  thought  of  as  the  scene;  of 
a  battle.  It  is  memorable  for  the  attack  made  by  the  Ameri- 
cans on  die  IJritirii,  who  had  a  garrison  there,  durinir  the 
Kevolution.  TJie  American  detachment  was  coinmaiuled  by 
Col.  IJrown,  and  being  (dated  with  his  recent  triumphs  on 
Lake  Chami)lain,  he  resolved  to  attack  Diamond  Island.  The 
batde  was  bloody,  a. id  tlie  British  fouirht  like  brave  men 
"long  and  well ;"  the  Americans  were  defeated,  and  this 
misfortune  was  Ibllowed  by  the  sullerings  of  a  most  painl'ul 
retreat  over  the  almost  impassable  mountains  between  the 
liake  and  what  is  now  Whitehall.  AVhile  wandering  about 
the  island  it  was  a  dillicidl  matt(>r  for  me  to  realize  that  it 
liad  ever  resounded  with  the  roar  of  cannon,  the  dismal  wail 
of  war,  and  the  shout  of  victory.  That  spot  is  now  covered 
with  woods,  whose  shadowy  groves  are  Uic  abode  of  a  thou- 


FRFXCII   MOUNTAIN. 


sniul  birds,  forovor  siiiLniiLf  :i  soiiij  of  ponce  or  lovr,  ;ts     *'  tc 
rondriiiii  llir  anii)ilioii  and  crucltv  of  man. 


In  tlic  vicinity  of  Frrnfli  Mountain  is  an  island  crl«'l)r.it«pd 
as  tlic  hurial-plact!  of  a  rattlesnake  hunter,  named  IJeldeti. 
From  all  that  I  can  learn,  he  must  have  heen  a  strauire  mortal 
indeed.  His  birth-place  and  early  liistory  were  alike  un- 
known. When  he  first  made  his  apj)ear;»nce  at  this  lake, 
liis  only  companions  w(^re  a  bi-otherhood  of  rattlesnakes,  by 
exhibitinj^  which  he  professed  to  have  obtained  his  livinff;  and 
it  is  said  that,  durin<r  the  remainder  of  liis  lite,  he  ac(juired 
a  handsome  sum  of  money  by  selliiiL''  the  oil  and  (^all  of  his 
favorite  reptile.  And  I  have  recently  been  told  that  the  pre- 
sent market  price  of  a  fat  snake,  when  dead,  is  not  less  than 
half  a  dollar.  Another  mode  peculiar  to  old  Helden  for 
makinir  money,  was  to  sulfer  himself  to  ])e  bitten,  at  some 
tavern,  after  which  he  would  return  to  his  cabin  to  npply  the 
remedy,  when  he  would  come  forth  airain  just  as  jrood  as  new. 
But  he  was  not  always  to  be  a  solejnn  triller.  For  a  week 
liad  the  old  man  been  missino-,  aiul  on  a  pleasant  Auirust 
morninsx,  his  body  was  found  on  the  island  alluded  to,  sadly 
mutilated  and  bloated,  and  it  was  certain  that  he  had  died 
actually  surrounded  with  rattlesnakes.  His  death  bed  be- 
came his  grave,  and  rattlesnakes  were  his  only  watchers  ; — 
thus  cndeth  the  story  of  his  life. 

But  this  reminds  me  of  two  little  adventures.  The  other 
day  as  I  was  sealed  near  the  edjre  of  a  sand  bar,  near  the 
mouth  of  a  l)rook,  sketchin<^  a  sfi'oup  of  trees  and  the  sunset 
cloutls  beyond,  I  was  startled  by  an  immense  black  snake, 
that  landed  at  my  side,  and  pursued  its  way  directly  under 
my  leffs,  upon  which  my  drawin<i;-book  was  restiuL''.  Owing 
to  my  perfect  silence,  the  creature  had  j)robably  looked  upon 
me  as  a  mere  stump.  lUit  what  was  my  surprise  a  few  mo- 
ments after,  when  re-seated  in  the  same  place,  to  lind  another 


GO 


A  TOUR  TO  THE    RIVER  SAfU  KXAY, 


i  1 


|j   \ 


snake,  and  lliat  a  laroe  spotted  adder,  passiii}]^  aloiiix  tlie  same 
track  tli(!  loiiiH^r  had  pursued.  The  iirsl  iVijiht  liad  ahnost 
disahh'd  iiic  iVom  usiuii  the  j)eiieil,  hut  when  the  second  came, 
1  nave  a  histy  ycdl,  and  ibrirotlul   of  tlie  line  arts,  started   for 


lonie  o 


n  ti 


i(!  keen  run. 


At  another  time  when  returnin<(  iVom  a  lishin»>-  excursion, 
in   a    hoat    accompanied    hy  a    couj)le  of  "  jrreen-iiorns,'"  we 


discovert  (1  on  Ilie  water,  near 


'1 


OtlLHie 


M 


ountam,  an  immense 


rattkisnake  with  liis  liead  turned  towards  us.  As  the  oars- 
man in  the  how  of  tiie  hoat  struck  at  him  witli  Jiis  oar,  the 
snake  coihui  round  it,  and  the  fool  was  in  the  very  act  of  (h'op- 
pinii'  the  (h'vilisli  thinjj-  in  my  lap.  1  had  heard  the  creature 
rattle,  and  not  knowini,^  what  1  did,  as  he  hunix  suspended 
over  me,  overhoard  I  went,  and  did  not  look  l)eliind  until  I 
liad  reached  the  land.  The  consecpience  was,  that  for  one 
while  1  was  perfectly  disirusted  even  with  liak(>  lloricon, 
and  resolved  to  leav(!  it  without  delay.  'J'he  snake  was  killed 
without  doiiio-  any  harm,  liowever,  hut  such  a  hlowiiii!'  up  as 
1  gave  the  grei'n-h(H'n  actually  made  his  hair  stand  straiiiht 
with  fear. 

One  more  snake  story,  and  I  will  conclude  :  On  the  north 
side  of  \M.u-k  Mountain  is  a  cluster  of  some  half  dozen 
jiouses,  in  a  vale,  which  spot  is  called  the  IJosom,  hut  from 
what  cause  I  do  not  know.  'J'he  presidinfT  <reniuses  of  the 
place  are  a  hand  of  jrirls,  weiiihinjr  two  hundred  j)()unds 
apiece,  who  farm  it  with  their  fathers  for  a  livini>-,  hut  whose 
principal  (tinuscmcut  is  rattlesnake  huntinir.  'I'heir  favorite 
play-ij;round  is  the;  notorious  cliif  on  Toniiue  Mountain,  where 
they  no  with  na.ked  feet  (rowinjr  their  own  l)oats  across  the 
lake),  and  j)ull  out  by  their  tails  from  the  rocks  the  j)retty 
playthinus,  and,  snappinn-  them  to  death,  they  lay  them  away 
In  a  basket  as  trophies  of  their  skill.  I  was  told  that  in  one 
day  last  year  they  killed  the  incredible  number  of  elevcMi 
fiiindred.     What  delicious  wives  would  tlu>se  lloricon  ladies 


MrniTATlONS. 


61 


mak".  Sinrc  llic  I'lorida  Indians  hav(^  boon  drivoii  tVom  thoir 
couiilrv  1)V  1)l()()d-lu)nii(ls,  would  il  not  \)r  a  cood  idea  lor 
Coniircss  to  nocun*  tlir  services  of  [\\vsc  amazons  for  tlu» 
jMirpMsc  of  ('Xt(n'miiialin<,»-  tlio  rattlesnakes  upon  our  moun- 
tains. This  latter  nioveiuent  would  he  the  most  ridiculous, 
hut  ihe  inhumanity  of  the  former  is  without  a  j)arallel. 


^1 


A  clear  and  traiKjuil  summer  ninht,  and  ]  am  alone  on  the 
pehhly  heacdi  of  this  parairon  of  lakes.  The  countless  hosts  of 
lieaxcn  are  hiMUiinir  upon  mc  with  a  silent  jov,  and  more 
impressive  and  holy  than  a  poet's  dream  are  the  surroundini^ 
niouniains,  as  they  stand  redectcMl  in  the  unrulUed  waters. 
Listen!  what  sound  is  that  so  like  the  wail  of  a  spirit  .'  Only 
a  loon,  the  loncdy  nia'ht-watcher  of  lloricon,  whose  midan- 
clioly  moan,  as  it  breaks  th<^  profound  stillness,  carries  my 
fancy  back  to  the  olden  Indian  times,  ere  the  white  man 
had  crossed  the  ocean.  All  these  mountains  and  this  heaii- 
tilul  lake  were  then  the  heritaire  of  a  brave  and  noble-hearted 
peopl(%  who  made  war  only  upon  the  denizens  of  the  forest, 
whose  lives  were  j)eaceful  as  a  dream,  and  whose  manly 
forms,  decorated  with  the  j)lumes  of  the  eas»le,  the  feathers 
of  the  s(  arlet  bird,  and  lln;  rolx^  of  {\\c  boundinir  slag, 
tended  but  to  make  the  scenery  of  the  wilderness  beautiful  as 
an  earthly  J'lden.  Here  was  the  (piicH  wiirwam  villaire,  and 
there  the;  secluded  abodt^  of  the  thouubtful  (diief.  Here, 
uni!iolcsted,  the  Indian  (diild  j)layed  with  {\\o.  spotted  fawn, 
and  the  "Indian  lover  wooed  his  dusky  mate;"  here  the 
Indian  hunter,  in  the  "  sunset  of  his  life,"  watidu'd  with  holy 
aw(!  the  sunset  in  the  west,  and  here  the  ancient  Indian 
prophetess  sunii'  her  un(!Outh  but  relinious  (diant.  (ione — all, 
all  u'one — and  the  desolate  creature  of  the  waves,  now  |)ealing 
forth  another  wail,  seems  the  only  memorial  that  they  have 
left  Ixdiind.  There — my  recent  aspirations  are  all  (pielled, 
I  can  walk  no  further  to-night; — there  is   a  sadness  in  my 


'I 


J 


'i 


62 


A  TOrR  TO  THE   RIVER  SAGIENAV. 


•soul,  and  T  must  seek  my  home.     It  is  such  a  hlessed  iiicrht 
It  seems  almost  sinful  tliat  a  blight  should   rest  on  the  spiriJ 
ot  man;  yet  on  mine  a  gloom  will  sometimes  fall,  nor  can  I 
tell  whence  the  cloud  that  makes  me  wretched. 


1 


CHAPTER    V. 

Tlie     Sr.'inion     r(jmitry — Scaroon     Liiko     I'ko   llshini;  l)y  torchlight — 
Tnjiit  h^llillL^ — Lyndsay's  Tavorii — I'arailux  Lake. 

Ijj}iiUaijs  Tai'cni,  Jum\ 

Emi'tyinc;  iiUothc  Hudson  River,  about  fiftecii  miles  north 
of  Cileu's  Falls,  is  quite  a  lartro  stream,  sometimes  called  the 
East  Hrancliorthe  Hudson,  hut  generally  known  as  Searooii 
River.  Its  extreme  lenirtli  is  not  far  iVom  tifty  miles.  It 
is  a  elear,  eold,  and  rapid  stream,  winds  through  a  moun- 
Minous  country,  and  has  rather  a  ileep  channel.  The  valley 
throutrh  whicii  it  runs  is  somewhat  cultivated,  but  the  moun- 
tains which  frown  upon  it  on  either  side,  are  covered  with 
dense  forests.  The  valley  of  the  Scaroon  abounds  in  beau- 
tiful lakes  ami  brooks ;  ami  as  I  have  explored  them  pretty 
thorougidy  during  the  past  week,  I  will  now  record  the  result 
of  my  observations. 

Tlu!  most  })rominent  pictorial  feature  of  this  region  is 
Scaroon  liake,  through  which  the  river  of  that  name  forms  a 
channel.  It  is  [vn  miles  in  leniidi  and  average's  about  oiu'  in 
width,  lilxcepting  a  little  hamlet  at  its  head,  and  two  or 
three  farms  at  the  southern  extremity,  it  is  yet   surrounded 


*  The  \\(ii-il  Schrooii  is  Ijail  F.iiL^h-h  liir  th"  huhaii  wnrd  Stiaroon,  the 
meaning  of  whii'h  is — -^  ihilil  of  lln  mountains."  Thi'  rivrr  was  lirigiiially 
nunietl  by  an  Algonquin  chief  after  u  favorite  daughter. 


04 


A  TOUR  TO  TIIF   RIVKR  SAOI  EXAY. 


II  I 


will)  ;i  wilderness  of  iiioiintaitis.  'V\\<\  \vat(M's  tlicrcof  arc 
(1('('|)  aiiil  clear,  and  well  supplied  wilh  lisli,  ol"  which  the 
salmon  trout  and  |)ike  arc  the  most  valuahle.  The  trout  are 
more  abundant  lieri;  than  in  Lake  (Jeorjre,  hut  owinir  to  the 
prevailini,^  custom  of  sj)earini:  tiiem  in  the  autumn,  they  are 
rapidly  hecomintr  extinct.  I  made  a  d(>sp(>rate  ell'ort  to 
capture  one  as  a  specimen,  hut  without  success,  thounli  I 
was  told  that  they  varied  in  weiij^hl  from  ten  to  lirteen  j)ounils. 
My  ellorts,  however,  in  takinjr  pike  were  more  encourafrinj^. 
liut,  hel'ore  givinir  my  experience,  I  must  mention  an  inte- 
resting jact  in  natural  history.  Previous  to  the  year  1810, 
Scaroon  Lake  was  not  known  to  contain  a  single  pike,  but 
during  tbat  year,  some  hall"  dozen  males  and  females  were 
brou<rht  from  Lake  Champlain  and  deposited  therein,  since 
which  Unw.  they  have  multiplied  so  rapidly  as  to  be  quite 
abundant,  not  only  in  Scaroon  Lake,  but  in  all  the  neiiihbor- 
ing  waters,  and  as  they  are  frequently  taken  weighing  some 
twenty  pounds,  the  fact  seems  to  be  established  tliat  this  fish 
grows  (juite  rapidly,  and  is  not  of  slow  growth,  as  many 
naturalists  have  supposed. 

IJut  to  my  pike  story.  A  number  of  lumbermen  were 
going  out  for  the  ])urpose  of  taking  pike  by  torch-light,  and  I 
was  fortunate  enough  to  secure  a  seat  in  one  of  the  three  Hat 
boats  which  coutaincnl  the  lishermen.  It  was  a  superb  night, 
and  the  lake  was  without  a  rijiple.  Our  torches  were  made 
of"  fat  pine,"  as  it  is  here  called,  and  my  polite  friends  taking 
it  for  granted  that  T  was  a  Jiovice  in  the  spearing  business, 
they  cunningly  award(Ml  to  me  the  dullest  spear  in  their 
possession,  and  gave  jne  the  poorest  position  in  the  boat.  I 
said  nothing  to  all  this,  l)ut  inwardly  resolved  that  I  would 
give  them  a  salutary  lesson,  if  possible.  I  fished  from  nine 
until  twelve  o'clock,  and  then  left  mv  friends  to  continue  the 
sport.  The  entire  number  of  pike  taken,  as  I  found  out  in  the 
morniii'S  was  thirteiMi,  and  as  fortune  would  have  it,  four  of 


A  MOONLIGHT  SrKNF. 


05 


arc 
the 

I  arc 
)  the 
V  are 
rt   to 
mil  I 

airinil. 

II  inte- 
1810, 

ivcs  hut 
s  were 
1,  since 
c   quite 
>i(Thbor- 
0-  some 
his  lish 
many 

>n  ^vere 
it,  and  1 
lu'ce  Hat 
|rh  iiiilht, 
•vc  made 
[\^  taking 
business, 
in  their 
hoat.     I 
I  would 
I'roni  nine 
iimue  the 
out  in  the 
il,  four  of 


thi<  iiumhcr  were  capUircd  l)y  inyscH".  in  spile  of  my  poor 
spear.  I  (lid  not  take  tlie  larizcsl  tisli.  uhirli  weiiihed  eiiiliteen 
pounds,  hn:  the  lireatcst  luiinher,  with  wiiich  success  1  was 
I'ullv  sati>lied. — The  cllect  ol"  my  i^noil  \\\rk  was  iiiiex peeled 
to  m\'  companions,  hut  nralilV iiiif  to  nu',  for  there  was  after- 
wards a  strife  hetween  them  as  to  who  shouKl  show  me  the 
most  attention  in  the  wav  of  pilotiiiLT  I'le  about  the  country. 
This  htth' adveiitiu'(>  tauiiht  me  the  importance  of  understand- 
iiiL^  e\('n  the  vaL''ahon(l  art  of  speariiii!", 

'J'hi'  e\cnl  of  that  niiihl,  how(>ver,  wliich  ailorchal  me  the 
purest  enjovmeiit.  was  the  witm'ssinsi"  of  a  mooidiii'ht  sciuu;, 
immeihatelv  after  leaxiiiir  the  lai;e  shore  for  the  iuu,  where 
1  was  tarr\  iuiT.  I'eiore  me,  in  wihl  ami  sohunu  heauty,  hiy 
the  southern  po'Mion  ctl'  the  Scaroon,  on  whose  l)o>om  were 
glifUnii  tl,i,e  spearnu'ii,  hohhnu'  hijrh  above  their  heads  their 
hni^e  torches,  which  thicw  a  spectral  i^hirc,  not  otdy  npon 
the  water,  hut  n|!on  the  swarthy  I'orins  watchiun-  for  their 
.lust  at  this  moment,  an   immense  cloud  of  foii  broke 


)rev 


o 


away,  ami  ilirectly  ai)Ove  the  siinnnit  ol  the  opposite  nH)un- 
tain,  the  (dear,  full  moon  made  its  appearance,  and  a  lliou- 
sand  fantastic  liu:nres,  born  of  the  foLi",  were  pictured  in  the 
sky.  and  appeared  extremely  brilliant  under  the  (diulirence 
f  the  ridiu!!  planet;  while  the  zenith  of  sky  vas  of  a  deej) 
l)hie,  (doudless,  hut  completely  spantiled  witli  stars.  And 
^v]lat  lireatly  added  to  the  maiiic  of  tlu;  scene,  w^as  tin;  dis- 
mal scream  of  a  loon,  which  canu;  to  my  ear  from  a  remote 
portion  of  tli(>  lake,  yet  covered  with  a  heavy  I'on;. 

vi.^'ini'  from  the  western  marain  of  Scaroon  Lake,  is  (luile 


1 


a  lofiy  iiKumtain.  which  was  oiu'c  paintetl  by  'JMiomas  Cole, 
ami  l»y  liiin  named  Scaroon  Mountain,  'i'lunx!  is  nothin<r 
parti(ailarly  imposinn-  about  it,  but  il  commamls  un  uncom- 
monly line  prospect  of  the  surroiindinjr  country.  When  I 
lirst  came  in  sii>ht  of  this  mountain,  it  struck  ine  as  an  ohl 
acquaintaiiee,  and  I  reined  in  my  liorsc  for  the   purpose  of 


66 


A  TOTR  TO  THE  RIVER  SAGUENAY. 


I 


invrsli<r:ilinfr  its  fGatures.  Bfforc  I  rosumcd  my  coiirsr.  1 
conchult'd  that  I  was  standiiiir  on  llic  very  spot  whence 
tli(i  artist  liad  taken  liis  ori<nnal  sketch  of  the  scene,  ])v 
which  circinnstanco  I  was  convinced  ot"  the  lidelity  of  liis 
pencil. 

'J'he  larg^est  island  in  Scaroon  Jiake  lies  near  the  northern 
extreniity,  and  studs  the  water  like  an  emerald  on  a  field  of 
blue.  It  was  purchased,  some  years  ajro,  by  a  ixentleinan  of 
New  N'ork,  named  Keland,  who  has  built  a  summer  residence 
upon  it,  for  the  accommodation  of  himself  and  Iricnds. 

Emptying  into  the  Scaroon  Kivcr,  just  below  the  lake,  is 
a  superb  mountain  stream,  known  as  Trout  Jirook.  It  is 
thirty  feet  wide,  tw(dve  miles  lonir,  and  comes  rushing  down 
the  mountains,  formiufj  a  thousand  waterfalls  and  pools,  and 
iillin<r  its  narrow  valley  with  an  evcM-lastinuf  roar  of  music. 
Not  oidy  is  it  distinguished  lor  the  quality  and  nu.ml)er  of  its 
trout,  but  it  possesses  one  attraction  which  will  pay  the 
tourist  for  the  weary  tramp  he  must  underi^o  to  explore  its 
remote^  recesses.  I  alhuU;  to  what  the  people  about  here  call 
"  the  Stone  Bridge."  At  this  point,  the  wild  and  dashing 
stream  has  formed  a  channel  directlv  throu<^h  the  solid  moun- 
tains,  so  that,  in  llshini^  down,  the  angler  suddenly  finds  him- 
self standing  upon  a  })ile  of  dry  stones.  The  extent  of  this 
natural  l)ridge  is  not  more  than  twenty  or,  perhaps,  thirty 
feet,  but  the  wonder  is,  that  the  unseen  channel  is  sufliciently 
large  to  admit  the  i)assagc  of  the  largest  logs  which  the  lum- 
bermen iloat  down  the  stream.  I  might  also  add,  tliat  ai  the 
foot  of  this  bridge  is  one  of  the  llnest  pools  imaginable.  It  is, 
perhai)s,  one  hundred  leet  lonir,  and  so  very  deep  that  the  clear 
water  appears  quite  black.  This  is  the  finest  spot  in  the  whole 
brook  for  trout,  and  my  luck  there  may  be  described  as  follows  : 
I  had  basketed  no  less  than  nine  h:df-poundcrs,  when  my  lly 
was  suddenly  seized,  and  my  snell  snapped  in  twain  by  the 
fierceness  of  his  leaps.  The  consequence  of  that  defeat  was,  that 


i 


i 


TROUT   I  ISIIING. 


67 


liim- 
ihis 

liirty 
lUly 

llum- 

II  the 

U  is, 

clcur 

^vliolc 

llows : 

rtV  iiy 
bv  the 
is,that 


I  resolved  to  capiiirf  th(>  trout,  it"  I  li.id  to  rcniain  \\\o\'c  :ill  tii'ilit. 
1  lii(Mi  riiivMc'kcd  til.!  niouiitaiii  sidf  lor  a  li\iiiLi-  bait,  and, 
with  thf  aid  of  iiiv  '*oiii[)aiiioii,  siiccccdcd  in  captiiriuiX  ^i 
small  moiHc,  and  just  as  the  t\vilii:ht  was  ('(Miiin'i  nii,  I  tied 
the  little  jellow  to  luv  hook,  and  threw  hitii  on  the  water. 
He  swam  across  in  line  st\  le,  hut  w  hen  he  reafdied  the  cen- 
tre of  the  pool,  a  lanje  trout  Icajieil  eoinpletid v  out  of  his 
clement,  and  in  deseendinLT,  seized  the  m(Mise,  and  tlu'  res'alt 
was,  that  1  hroke  mv  rod,  hut  eaUL'hi  the  trout,  and  though 
the  in!Mi>e  was  seriouslv  injured,  I  had  the  pleasure  ot' a^aiii 
L^iviuii'  him  his  liherty. 

'I'he  largest  trout  that  I  killeil  weij^hed  nearly  a  pound,  and 
thouLrh  he  was  the  eause  ol'  mv  reeeiviuL''  :i  duekini:-,  he  af- 
forded me  .some  sport,  and  L^i've  m^  a  new  ide;i.  \\  !ien  I. 
lirsi  hooked  him,  1  stood  on  tln^  \'er\'  mari^in  of  the  ^'rean1. 
knee  deep  in  a  hoo-,  and  just  a-;  1  was  a!)out  to  basket  him, 
he  ijave  a  sudden,  leap,  (deared  himsfdf,  and  fell  into  the  wa- 
ter, (iuitdv  as  thouLdit  I  made  an  t'llbrt  to  rescue  him,  huf 
ill  doiiiir  so,  lost  mv  balance,  and  wa.s  plavino-  the  part  of  i 
turtle  in  a  tub  of  water.     1  then  becanu'  j)oetii-ad,  aiul  thouifht 


It 


w 


ould  ne\'er  do  to  aive  it  U[)  so. 


am 


1  aft 


er  waitinii'  some 


fifteen  m.nutes,  I  returned  ami  tried  for  the  lost  trout  airiiin. 
I  threw  my  lly  some  tw(>nty  feet  above  the  place  where  j 
had  tumlthnl  in,  and  reca[)tured  the  identical  ilsh  whudi  I 
had  lost.      I  r(M'oo-|iiz(id  hiin  l)v  b.is  havimi  :i  torn   and  bleed- 


itiir  mouth. 


'JM 


lis  circumstance  convinced  iiu    that  trou 


It,  lik 


\e 


many  of  the  sons  of  men,  have  short  memories,  and  also 
that  the  individual  in  ([uertion  was  a  [lerfecl  Jiicdudieu  or 
General  Tavlor  in  his  wav,  for  he  seemed  to  know  no  su(di 


wo 


rd  as  fail.  As  to  the  trout  that  I  did  not  capturi',  1  \erily 
believe  that  ho  must  have  weiiihed  two  pounds  ;  but  as  he 
was,  probably,  a  superstitious  irentlemaii,  he  tliouuht  it  the 
better  part  of  valor,  somewhat  like  ISaiita  Anna,  to  treat  the 
steel  of  his  enemy  with  contempt. 


68 


A  TOUR  TO  THE  RIVKR  SAGT'ENAY. 


The  brook  of  wliicli  I  li:iv(;  hocii  spoakiiiiT,  is  onlv  twenty- 
live  miles  iVom  Lake  llorieoii.  :ui(i  iiiii|iiL'Stion;ibly  one  of 
the  best  streams  Ibr  ihe  aiiirler  in  ibe  Searoon  valh^y.  'i'hc 
Trout  JJrook  Pavilion,  at  tbe  month  of  it,  ke|)l  by  one  Loek- 
wood.  is  a  comforlable  inn  ;  ami  bis  riijbt  band  man,  named 
Ki|»j),  is  a  very  line  fellow  and  a  ^('iiiiim'  aiiLder. 

S|)'akimi  of  tbe  above  iVieiids,  reminds  me  of  another,  a 
line  man,  muned  liyndsey,  who  kecjpetb  a  tavern,  about  ten 
miles  iiortli  of  Searoon  iiake.  Ills  dwelliiitj;  is  (hdiiibtl'nlly 
sitnali'd  in  ;b(3  centre  of  a  deep  valley,  and  is  a  nice  and 
('onv(  nient  place  [n  stop  at,  for  those  who  are  fond  of  fishintr, 
and  admire  romantic  scenery.  His  jainily,  iiudiidinir  his  wife, 
two  dauubters  and  one'  son,  lujt  oidy  know  bow  to  make  their 
IVionds  comfortable,  but  they  secnn  to  have  a  passion  ibr 
doiuii"  kind  deeds.  During'  my  stay  at  this  j)lace,  1  bail  the 
pleasure  of  witnessint^'  a  most  int(!restinu:  game,  which  seems 
to  be  ])(>culiar  to  this  part  of  the  (,'ountry.  It  was  played 
Avith  the  common  ball  ami  by  one  iuindred  sturtly  farmers. 
Previous  to  tbe  time  alluded  to,  fifty  Searoon  players  had 
challeniied  an  equal  number  ol'  j)layers  from  a  neighboring 
village  named  Moriali.  'I'hc  conditions  were  that  the  de- 
feated party  should  pay  Ibr  a  dinner  to  be  given  by  my  friend 
Jiyndsey.  They  commenced  playing  at  nine  o'clock,  and  the 
game  was  eiideti  in  about  three  liours,  the  Searoon,  j)arty  hav- 
ing won  by  about  ten  counts  in  live  humlred.  'IMie  majority 
of  the  players  varied  from  thirty  to  thirty-live  years  of  age, 
though  some  of  the  most  expert  of  them  were  verging  upon 
sixty  years.  'I'liey  played  with  the  impetuosity  of  sidiool 
boys,  and  there  were  some  admirable  feats  performed  in  the 
WAV  of  knocking  and  catching  the  ball.  Some  of  the  men 
could  number  their  acres  by  thousands,  and  all  of  them  were 
accustomed  to  severe  labor,  and  yet  they  thought  it  absolutely 
necessary  to  particij)ate  occasionally  in  this  maidy  and 
fatiguing  sport.     The  dinner  passed  olf  in  line   style,  and 


M 

i 


LAKK   rARADOX. 


09 


I  ad 
•iug 
dc- 

heiid 
llhe 
hav- 

ority 
age, 
upon 

l'\\00l 

u  iHe 
men 
wore 

)\uiely 


was  sj)ii'('(l  1)V  maiiv  ;i'iri('ii1tiiral  nnrrdotr?:.  niul  as  the  sun 
was  scitiii'i.  tilt"  parties  scparaird  in  llu,"  host  of  spirils  and 
ri'tiirncd  lo  llicir  several  lionies. 

For  Tear  lliat  I  should  lorL't't  niv  diitv,  T  would  now  intro- 
duce to  niv  reader  a  slieel  ol"  water  einl)osoiued  aniouLl  tlicso 
iiiouutains,  \\lii(di  nlories  in  the  naini^  of  Fiake  Paradox. 
Ilow  it  eaiiie  hy  that  (pieer  title,  I  was  not  ahle  to  learn,  hut 
this  I  know,  that  it  is  one  ol'  the  most  heautiCul  lakes  I  have 
ever  seen.  It  is  li\t'  miles  loiin-.  and  surronntled  with  uneul- 
tivated  mountains,  e\eei)tii:!j-  at  its  loot,  where  opens  a  heauti- 
t'ul  j)lain,  liiLddv  ('idti\;!ted  and  dotted  with  a  variety  of  rude 
hut  exei'ediuLilv  ('(unfertahle  laian  houses.  The  shores  of 
\u\kr  Paradox  are  ro(d\y,  the  water  deep  ami  (dear,  ahound- 
inir  in  li^li.  and  the  lines  of  the  mountains  are  pietures((ue  to 
an  uneomuKMi  deL!re(\ 

IJnt  it  is  linm  that  1  shoidd  turn  iVom  particulars  to  a  oiau'ral 
description  of  the  Scaroon  Counirv. — 'I'houiih  this  is  an 
aLiricuitural  region,  the  two  principal  arti(des  ot'  export  are 
lumher  and  ircui.  Ol"  the  lormer  t!u;  i)rinci[)al  varieties 
are  pine,  hendock  and  spruce,  v.wd  two  estahlishnu'Uts  lor 
the  manufacture  of  iron  are  ahundanlly  suj)plie(l  with  ore 
from  the  surroundin(r  nH)untains.  Potatoes  of  the  linest  ([uali- 
ty  llourish  here,  also  wheat  and  corn.  The  people  are  mostly 
Anmricans,  intelliticnt,  virtuous  ami  industrious,  and  are  as 
f?onifortablL'  and  happy  as  any  in  the  State. 


and 
•and 


ClIATTEK     VI. 


Thp  AV^^'n<l^a•^^^•">n1;>■.l■.^■ 

.    1   ,.,-,  ||,e  extreme 

l,.an,il.on,  and  .bout  lov.y  "  '^J ^^  ,„„,.„,,  ,ec>  in  Wei.U', 
•n..v  vavy  iron,  Hv..  ^^-^^''^'^ ^^;:^,  ,,,,  den.o  fures.s. 
„„,.\vl.l.  low  '■^'■^i',"""'' J!  ,^,e„sivc  wiUlcruoss  region  m 
Tlu  V  lor.1   it  over  .  ,o  "■"      '  ^.^^uUv  penormcd  a  pilgrim- 

n<TO  -imoiv'-  them,  I  i^^'^^   »''"»         ,.  . 
l^:;:ana.n.araanrin.,ny<.H;--^^^^,,,^,„,.,.^^^ 

,0  U:ave  m.  nvail  >■'>--•;;;„;,„,, ill  be  ahie  to  V-re 

roon.     If  I'o-'"""  """^;;  o,  perhaps  obtain  a  sea. 

,,,,.,.,„  tal.e  him  nrlK.      U">        J^_^^  ^^^^^ 

in  a  Uunber  uagon ;  lj»    "        '  .^^     f,,,„„c  Avas  non- 

1US1...S.     W''t'"f',    ';:;,lwmotp,oonlbo.,sho 
oon,n,i.tal ;  lor  -bile  ^\^^     "^  .onnvanions,  wUo  were 

,.,,piiea  .ne  with  ^l'-;<"^'^  "  Viencll  and  have  a  few 


1 


THE  nOREAS  KIVER. 


71 


Sca- 
.  hire 
a  scat 
3U\c  of 
s  iiou- 
ol,  s^^c 
10  were 

a  lew 
3  of  my 


> 


Irifiids  'hoih  of  whom  wvvv  youiijr  iijcii),  u:is  a  fanner,  who 
carried  a  rille,  ;iiul  ihe  other  a  iravelhiii(  coimtry  imisiciau, 
who  carried  a  luldle.  (Jiir  first  day's  tramj)  took  us  ahoiil 
lifleen  miles,  thnuiuh  a  liiily,  tliicklv  wooileil,  and  liouseU\ss 
wiklerness,  to  the  IJoreas  River,  where  we  found  a  ruined 
loiT  shantee,  in  whii'h  we  etuiehided  to  sj)eiul  llu.'  niiiht.  A\  e 
readied  tliis  U)nely  sj)ot  at  ahout  three  o'cloek  in  the  after- 
noon ;  and  havinu'  })revi(»usly  heeii  tokl  that  the  IJoreas  was 
famous  lor  trout,  twodl'us  siarletl  after  a  nu'ss  of  lish,  while 
tlic  lithUer  was  ai)[)(Uiiti'd  U)  l!ie  ollice  of  wood-ehopper  to  the 
CXpi  chtion.  The  IJoreas  at  this  j)oint  is  ahout  one  hundreil 
leet  hroad, — w  iiids  llirouuh  a  woody  vaHev,  and  is  eoid,  rapid, 
and  (dear.  The  eniiri'  river  does  not  dill'er  maleriahy,  as  I 
nnderstaiul,  from  tiie  j)oi!il  alluded  l(».  lor  it  waters  an  un- 
know  n  wihlerness.  1  hrihed  my  farmer  friend  to  iisri ml  the 
river,  and  haviiiLi"  j^oid^i  ted  a  \ariety  of  dies,  I  started  down 
the  stream.  I  j)roeee(K'd  near  half  a  mile,  when  I  eame  to 
a  still  water  pool,  which  seemed  to  he  (juite  extensive,  and 
very  deep.  At  tlie  head  (d' it,  midway  in  the  stream,  was  an 
immense  i)oulder,  whiidi  1  sueceeiled  in  surmountiuii-,  and 
whence  I  threw  a  red  ha(dvle  lor  upwards  ol' three;  hours.  1 
never  saw  trout  juni})  more  heautifully,  ami  it  was  my  rare 
hick  to  hasket  thirty-four;  twenty-one  of  whi(di  averatred 
lhree-((uarters  of  a  pound,  and  the  reinaiiiin<r  thirteen  were 
regular  two-pounders.  Satislied  with  my  hudi,  I  returned  to 
the  .>ha!iiee,  wlu  re  1  found  my  comj)anions  ;  one  of  them 
silliiiii'  belore  a  hlazini:  lii'e  and  liildlinir,  and  the  other  busily 
employed  in  (deaniiiL!'  the  trout  he  had  taken. 

In  due  time  f(dlowed  the  j)rincij)al  e\  ent  of  tlu-'  day,  wlii(di 
consi>led  in  co(dviiiu'  and  eaiinn'  a  wilderness  supper.  We 
had  hrouifht  a  supply  of  pork  and  hread,  and  eacdi  (nie  haviiuf 
prepared  for  liimself  a  j)air  oi'  wooden  forks,  we  j)roceeded 
to  roast  our  trout  and  pork  hel'ore  a  huire  lire,usinir  the  drip- 
\ni\)l^  of  the  hitter  for  sea.sonini,s  and  a  leather  cup  of  water 


I 


,  -ro.R  TO  THF.  nlVKU  SA.rKNAV. 


I 


Hon,!  ..H.lcl  upon  tl.c     .1  urn  ^        ^^^^  ^^^^^^_  ,^,,,„,  ,„^,  , 

deci.  slnmbor.  .(     j,,eami«?  of  u  fC't^"" 

i  sho.-,  tnnc  uU..-  "-'"  ^     ;;;    i,,,,,„,„,,y,  1  «.s  au-.U- 

F-'''-'->-''^''''''''"'To:ll     "I-  '1-  -'••''•     ^"""' 
'■ncl  l.y  u  foo-s.-p  on  ,..■     U  ^^^^^  ^„^,  ,,„,  ,Ununcr 

„p,.n  n,y  oyo.,  l.»t  -'"''' ,;"■,'„      1  |u.!a  ,ny  m-o-.ul.,  and 
„    .,>n..xpinn.cnaK.ron.luU-^^^^^^^^^^         ^^^^^^.^^    ,^  ,„„,  ,,H 

somcthin,'  a  lU.lo  nyn-e  --X'  an.-  .,,^,,,,„^.iy  ,hovl  iMi.c, 

p,,v  npon  onr  sU.uUn-  aoo,  ^^^^^^^  j  ,,^,j  ,,,,,,1. 

•riiov  ihonffl.t  il  must  ^e  .i  «o   ,  ^^  ^^,,,  ,e- 

•       .-n  l,nn  uw.v,  >'-  •■;--';  "lu    r.nuer  shonUl  fu-e 
V,s  vale  in  an.  au-ccM.on  ot   l>c  mv  ^^^^^^  ^^..^^^  ^,,,„ 

nuiou  .a.  anly  P-''""""';,,,  ,;„  Uc^os  oC  -he  aavenu.ve 
,i,h,oa,  a,c  vale  -l-;-^;  ;  »'       „,  ,,,„,„  «l.eve  we  fooua  a 

"-■'•''-'  """  '""  ";      ■     1"  u  aav  UaeUs  ol'  what  we  .up- 
few  avops  or  bl..oa,  ana  -l      '-     ;^,_^,,  „„,  ,„,,,„■  tlu-n  com- 

^^-^■''  "'  T::X\o  ,11  a  rn-e,  when  we  a.un  Un-ew 

::;:.Xs  upon  au,  l-";-;;,Xt  ,-.  au^y,  ana  m  less  .Inu, 

The  Cuiaiev  allenaea    a  .hi  ay  ,^^,^  ,,,,,,,.     '1  Uo 

,.en,y  nunutes,  he  ha     u  ^ua  aj-^  ^^_^  ^,„,,,,,ng  nviln- 

bv-aiiant  ana  lauglung     '^''^  "         j  i,.,  Uvslvument  and  eo,u- 
ence  upon  hUnevvcs,  that  he  se>/.e 


m 


1 


'A 


J 


A   MOI  RNFIL  SOSCf. 


73 


to 
re- 
\rc 

\en 
liUire 
n(\  ''^ 
sup- 
tom- 
hrew 

than 
The 

.1  coiu- 


A' 


iiK'iU'cd  pliiyiiiir,  paiMly  tor  ilic  purpose  of  k(('i)inL''  f^H'  thr 
wilil  :iuiiii:ils,  l)iit  mcslly  lor  his  own  iiuuiscmciit.  'J'hon 
lavinii  aside  his  rKhhe.  lie  henaii  to  siuir  a  varictv  of  nil- 
couth,  as  well  a>  plaiiiiive  soiiirs,  oiu'  ol  which  was  vaLHie, 
hut  niouruliil  iu  seuliiiient,  and  nion^  wild  in  nu-lody.  as  1 
lliouuht  at  th(  lime,  than  anythiui:'  I  had  ever  helore  heard. 
1  could  not  liiid  out  hy  whoui  il  was  writteu,  or  what  was 
its  exact  iiiiixuM.  lait  in  the  louei\'  place  whi're  we  were 
slecpitiLT,  ami  at  that  hour,  il  made  a  very  ileep  iiupressiou  on 
my  mind. 

The  !)ur(h'ii  of  the  sonir  ^vas  as  lolhnvs,  and  was  iu  keep- 
mix  with  ihe  picture  whi(di  the  miustrel,  the  ftreliiiht,  and  the 
rude  cahiu  preseuled. 

\\  !•  [initcl  in  .-ilriicc.  \\i'  [larti'd  at  night, 

( )n  ilio  Iiaiilv-  (if  lii;it  'niicly  nxcr, 

Wln-rc  tin-  ^li;i(l(i\\  y  trci'>  tlicir  li'Ui^li-  unite, 

\N  (■  met.  ;nnl  we  piuti'il  liirrVL'r: — 

The  niiilii  liiril  piuii:.  and  the  stars  ahuve 

1  <  iM  many  a  ti  mi'liinu'  stdry 

Ol'  liicnds  Inni,''  pa.-sril  tn  the  nian.-i'.ins  oCrf-t, 

Will  If  ilii'  ^(lnl  wears  her  mantle  nt'  ;:l(iry. 

We  I'aited   in  >ilonce;    dur  elieek-  were  wet 
Hy  the  tears  that  wen'  jiast  eontroliini: ; — 
We  viiu(>d  we  wnnld  never,  iid  ne\er  liiriret, 
And  thd-c  V(i\\-s  at  the  time-  were  eonxjIiiiL^  ; — 
But  the  lips  that  eeheed  my  viiws 
Are  as  cold  as  that  jdiiely  ri\er  ; 
The  S|)arkling  vyr,  the  spirit's  shrine, 
lla-  >hniuded  its  lire  Inrever. 


And  now  on  the  iui(hiiglit  sky  I  lor.k, 
My  eyes  trrow  full  with  weepin;:, — 
Maeh  -tar  to  me  is  a  seah'd  l)oolc. 
Some  tale-ul'  that  loved  one  keeiiincr. 


74 


,,  TO.R  TO  TllE  RIVEU  SAO'KNAY. 

r„H>i 1— "•' 1 '-:-'">•  •"■ 

„,,„,  .na  wi.U  .lu.  r,.mu  "  \'-  ^  ^^,,.,„,  „'„,  ,„.„..,Uf„s,,  (out 
a.--»--'^'>--  "':^''';,"bl.-l,-..a,,,u  stolon 
01-  0...  IVW  '"'-"  -■''"^''  ^"^  '•""  ''        ;,'  .„u  .„a  kUl.-a  .  large 

aun..  tiu- "i^''-0  .;.>■  ;'''-'-.,„,,,..„  ,.a  MH; 
„.„.., ,„a  1  .o.a<  a  sk...  .  o  ^^^^^.,^^^  ^^,,,  „,,,,a 

"->■  "'■  ■'•^■"^'"  -;•  ^t:;^    e     "    a,so„v...a  :>  »noo,  .1.  . 
,ve   luKU-a.a.   ami    ,.av..au         u,  ^  ^^_^^^^  ^^^^^^ 

i-ce.'.--'-''"V'"'';:;:::,  :,,,,. .Iroaa,  ana  a.V.ovaik. 

■„,,  ,,ou,  ion,-  n,ae..  ---;;;:;;,  ,„■  .,n,.h  .as  a  .oU- 

:::n::r ';:::;.-;- - ...o.., ..  a,. ..  a. 

,,,,„,„,  „..  Moo.e  Lake  J'    ^'^^^  „„,,;.  ,„„,„,,„.   .Inc.. 

Mooso  l.ak>-   In-   at    lu  ,„„„ntains,  and   thf. 

foumain  Uoaa  .a    the  »  "W   «  ,  ,,,,,  i„  ,„tnT 

St.  .,a.n.n,.,..     '^ '"■'''  '';,;'. '.houotn  is ....1  .uh 

.lK.r.Mnaylu-o,M.atonuxu      .  ^^,^^^,,,,.,.,^,,    ,,,„. 

,,,,Uosana,a,.atln.uat.tM.     .      1..    >^^^^.^^^^^^ 


sidi'viug 


lis    M^'-  1   '^^ 


1 


DEATH  OF  A  PEER. 


75 


lit   SIX 

1(1   llu- 
U)  the 
cntiri^ 
a  with 
('i)ii- 
;m  any 


S 


lake  in  this  wiKlrnirss.  and  it  is  also  rrl(^hratr(l  as  a  Matprin^ 
phicT  lor  dcvY  ;uul  iiioosu.  In  lishiui:  from  llic  shore,  one  of 
our  party  caUL^iit  no  hss  than  forty  pounds  of  trout  in  ahout 
two  hours.  There  ^^■ere  two  varieties,  and  they  varieil  from 
one  to  two  pounds  in  weiLrht.  Our  <rui(k;  to  this  hd<e,  where 
we  eiu'amped  for  one  niLlht,  was  Sl(,-u!»en  Iltnvitt,  the  ixeejier 
of  the  Neweomh  I'^arm,  who  is  quiu'  a  hunter.  'I'liis  woods- 
man L^ot  the  notion  into  his  licad  that  he  must  have  a  veni- 
son steak  for  his  supper.  WC  had  ah'eady  s(mmi  some  half  (h)zen 
tleer  walkintr  alonir  the  opposite  margin  (»f  the  lake,  hut  SU'uheii 
told  us  iliat  he  would  w  ail  uuiil  alter  dark  lo  ea|i!ure  his  i.rame. 
lie  also  told  us  that  the  deer  were  in  the  hahii  of  xisiiini!;  the 
wildiM'  lakes  of  this  rcLfiiui  at  niuht,  for  the  juirjtosc  of  cscap- 
inu'  the  tormeutiuii  ihes,  and  as  he  sj)oke  so  eonlideiillv  of 
V  iiat  he  iuteiuled  lo  accomplish,  we  awaiU'd  his  ellort  \\  ith  a 
decree  of  anxiety.  Sotui  as  the  (juiel  uiiiht  had  fairlv  set  in, 
lu'  shipped  him-^elf  on  hoard  a  wooilen  canoe,  (a  rickels  allair, 
oriLiinally  he([uealhed  to  this  lake  hv  some  departed  Indian,) 
in  the  how  of  \\  inch  was  a  lire  jack,  or  torch  hohler.  Sejia- 
ra.tinii'  this  machine  lr(mi  himself,  as  he  sat  in  the  centre  of 
the  canoe,  was  a  kind  of  screen  made  cd'  hai'k.  which  was 
sullicii  ntly  ele\aled  lo  allow  him  to  lire  his  i:un  from  uiuh'r- 
lU'ath;  and  in  this  predicameiil,  with  a  loadeil  rille  hy  his 
sitle,  dill  he  paddle  into  ihe  lake.  After  lhiatin<:-  upon  the 
wa'er  for  an  hour,  in  perlec!  silence,  he  'inally  heard  a  sj)Iash- 
mii-  near  the  shore,  and  immediately  1  uhlin^  his  londi,  he 
lioiseh  s>|y  |)roceeded  in  the  direelion  of  ihi'  smind,  w  lien  he 
discovcnd  a  heautiful  deer,  slandiiiii  knee  deep  in  the  water, 
and  looking  at  him  in  stupefied  sdence.  Tlie  poor  (Teature 
could  discover  nodiiiin  hut  the  mysterious  liolit,  and  while 
slandiiiLr  ill  ili(.  iii()>i  inleresiinn  attiliidc  iinaninahle,  llie 
hunter  raised  his  rille,  and  sjioi  ii  ihrouiji  ilu!  In  art.  In  half 
an  luuir  from  that  lime,  ilie  cai'cass  of  the  deer  was  iiaiiuini' 
on  a  dry  Innh   near  our  camp   lire,  and    I  was   leclurinn'   tho 


,^«8^^^ 


ieze: 


70 


A  TOUR  TO  THE   RIVER  SACUENAV. 


i 


I        ! 


liard-lu  :iiM('(l  Imntcr  on  llif  cruelly  of  thus  capluriiiL''  tin;  iii- 
iiocciil  crciitiircs  of  llio  Ibrcst.  To  nil  my  rcniarks,  how- 
ever, he  replied,  "They  were  i:iveii  us  for  food,  and  il  mat- 
ters not  how  we  kill  them.'' 

Lako  Delia,  tiirouirh  whitdi  you  liave  to  pass  in  jroiuLT  to 
Moose  Tiake.  lies  ahout  two  miles  west  of  tlu^  Neweomh 
Farm.  It  is  four  miles  lonu^and  less  than  oiiemil(>  in  width, 
and  ('om{)lelelv  surrounded  with  wood-crowned  hills.  Near 
the  central  portion,  this  lake  is  quite  narrow,  and  so  shallow 
that  a  rude  hridne  lias  hecm  thrown  across  lor  the  accommo- 
dation of  the  Farm  people.  'I'he  water  under  this  hridiic;  is 
only  ahout  four  feet  deep,  and  this  was  the  only  spot  in  the 
lake  where  1  lollowed  my  favorite  recreation.  I  visited  it  on 
one  occasion,  with  my  companions,  late  in  the  afternoon, 
wIkmi  the  wind  was  l)lowin<r,  and  we  enjoyed  rare  sjiort  in 
an<rlin^''  for  salmon  trout,  as  well  as  a  laru'c  species  of  com- 
mon trout.      I  do  not  know  tin;  numher   that  we   took,  luit   I 


well  rememl»er 


that 


we  iiad  more 


than  we  coulil  convenicMitly 
carry.      Usually,  the    salmon    trout    are   only  takcMi   in    deep 


water,  hut    ni    this,  and    ni 


M 


oose 


L 


idvc,  thev  seem  to   ho 


as 


niu(di  at  home  in  shallow  as  in  deep  water.  On  one  occa- 
sion I  visited  liakc  Delia  alone  at  an  early  hour  in  the  morniiiir. 
It  so  happened,  that  1  took  a  riili;  alonu"  with  i\]v-  and  while 
quietly  throwinjr  my  lly  on  the  old  l)rid<,''e,  I  had  an  opportu- 
nity of  usinij;  the  iiwn  to  some  purpose.  .My  movements  in 
that  lonely  j)lace  were  so  excecnlinuiy  still,  that  even  the 
wild  animals  were  not  disturhed  hy  my  prcv'^eiu'c  ;  for  while 
I  stood  there,  a  larire  fat  otter  made  his  appearam-e,  and  when 
he  came  within  shootinir  distance,  I  <ravc  him  the  contents  of 
my  ^un,  and  he  disap|)eared.  1  related  the  adventure  to  n>) 
companions,  on  my  return  to  the  farm,  hut  they  j)ronounce(l 


it   a  "  lish  story 


Mv  veracitx'   was   vindicated,  however, 


tor,  on  the  followinir  day,  they  discovered  a  dead  otter  on  the 
lake  shore,  and  coiiclud(Hl  that  I  had  told  the  (ruth. 


■'^ 


I 


1 

■5 
■I 


THE   XKWCOMn   FAIOf. 


lilc 
•tu- 

iii 
ilic 
hilo 

icn 
s  of 

iced 
vcr, 


I 
I 


I 


T  must  no!  roiicluilc  this  ciinptcr  without  Lnvin<ji"  my  reader 
an  ;i(l(lili()iial  |)arai:raj)li  altont  the  Ncwcoinh  l''arm.  .My 
iVicinl  Stciihrn  Hewitt's  nearest  neiuhhor  is  ei^ht  luih's  oil', 
and  as  his  t'anulv  i>  small,  it  mav  he  suj)j)()S('(l  that  he  h'ads  a 
retired  Hie.  One  of  the  days  tiiat  I  si)ent  at  his  house,  was 
(jnite  an  eventl'ul  one  with  him,  lor  a  town  election  was  ludd 
liiere.  'i'lie  electors  nwt  at  i,:ne  o"clo(d\,  and  the  poll  closed 
at  ll\c;  and  as  the  nuinher  'I  votes  polled  was  siiu/i,  it  may 
well  he  imauinial  that  the  excitmnent  was  intense.  |>nt  with 
all  its  loneliness  the  .\(.'wcomh  Farm  is  well  worth  visiting,  if 
lor  no  other  purpose  than  to  witness  the  j)anorama  ol"  moun- 
tains w  lii(di  it  commands.  On  exci'v  side  hut  om-  ma\'  they 
he  seen,  ladinu'  aw  a\'  to  miniile  their  deep  hlue  with  the  liirliicr 
hue  oi'  the  sk\',  hut  the  (diiet"  amonu'  them  all  is  old  Ta- 
hawus.  Jviiii:  of  the  Adirondacs.  'I'he  country  out  of  whicji 
llii.s  mountain  rises,  is  an  imposiuL'"  Alpine  wilderness,  and  as 
it  has  loiiM-  since  heen  ahandoned  hy  the  red  man,  the  solitude 
of  its  deep  vallevs  and  louely  lakes  for  tlu;  nn)sl  j)art,  is  now 
more  impressive  than  that  of  the  far  oil"  Ivoeky  Mountains. 
The  nieaniuii  of  the  Indian  word  'I'ahawus  is  .s/,i/  p'u ncs'  or 
.ski/  sji/i/ff  r :  and  faithfully  descrihes  the  appearance  of  the 
mountain.  Its  actual  ele\ation  al)o\e  the  levid  of  the  s(;:i  is 
live  thousand  four  hundred  and  si.\ly-si!ven  feet,  while  that 
of  .Mo\int  \\  ashinoton,  in  New  Hampshire,  is  onl\  six  thou- 
sand two  humlred  and  thirtv-lour.  makiiiir  a  diirerem-e  of  oidy 
se\en  hundred  aud  sixtv-seven  feet  in  favor  of  \\'ashinL''ton. 
'I'houiih  Tahawus  is  not  (piite  so  lofiv  as  its  New  I'hiiiiaiid 
hrother,  yet  its  form  is  hv  far  the  most  j)ictures(jue  an<l  im- 
j)osiui:.  Taken  together,  tlii'V  are  the  hi<^Hiest  j)air  of  nnmn- 
tain>^  in  the   I  nited  Slates. 

IJeforc  Lioniiione  step  further.  I  must  allude  to  what  I  deem 
tlu'  lolly  of  a  certain  state  ^colonist,  in  atteuipliuir  to  name 
tin;  j)rominent  peaks  of  the  Adirondae  .Mountains  after  a  i)ro- 
therhood  of  li\iiitr  men.      If  he  is   to   iuive  ids  way  in  this 


^ 


1 


n 


I 


78 


A  TOUR  TO  THE   RIVER  SAGUEXAV. 


liKittcr,  the  I)(':uitiriil  iianu!  of  Taliawus  will  be  superseded 
l)V  tliat  (jf  Marcv,  and  several  of  Taliawus'  brethren  are 
hereafter  to  he  known  as  Alouiits  Seward,  Wriirht  and  Younir. 
Now  if  this  hiisiness  is  not  supremely  ridiculous,  I  must  con- 
fess that  1  ilo  not  know  the  meaning  of  that  word.  A  pretty 
idea,  indeed,  to  scatter  to  the  winds  the  ancient  poetry  of  the 
poor  Indian,  and  perj)eluate  in  its  place  the  names  of  living 
politicians.  ]-\)r  my  ]>art,  I  airree  most  decitlcdly  with  the 
older  iidiahitants  of  the  Adirondac  wiUlerness,  who  look  with 
oljvious  indillerencc  u[»on  the  attempted  usurpation  of  the 
j]Ceolo<ri>t  alreadv  mentioned. 

For  iiiu(,'  months  in  the  year  old  Tahawus  is  covered  with 
a  crown  of  snow,  hut  there  are  spots  anionic  its  fastnesses 
where  you  may  irather  ice  and  snow  even  in  the  doff  days. 
The  base  of  this  mountain  is  covered  with  a  luxuriant  forest 
of  pine,  spruc(>  and  hemlock,  while  the  summit  is  clothed  in 
a  net-work  of  creepiuir  trees,  and  almost  destitute  of  the 
gvvcn  which  shouUl  charactiMMze  them.  In  ascending  its 
sides  when  near  ilie  summit,  you  are  impressed  with  the  idea 
that  your  pathway  may  be  smooth;  but  as  you  proceed,  you 
arc  constantly  annoyeil  l)y  [)it-falls,  into  which  your  legs  arc 
foolishly  poking  themselves,  to  the  great  annoyance  of  your 
hack  bop.e  and  other  portions  of  your  body  which  arc 
naturally  straight. 

I  ascended  Tahawus,  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  in  making 
the  trij)  t  travelled  some  tweniy  miles  on  foot  and  through 
the  pathless  woods,  employing  for  the  same  the  better  part 
of  two  days.  My  companion  on  this  expedition  was  John 
Cheney,  (of  whom  I  have  something  to  write  liereafter,)  and 
as  he  did  not  consider  it  prudent  to  spend   the   night  on  the 


summit,  we  only  spi':it  about  one  hoin*  gazing  upon  the 
panorama  from  the  top,  and  then  descended  about  half  way 
down  the  mountain  wliere  wc  built  our  watch  lire.  The 
view  from  Tahawus  is  rather  unique.     It  looks  down  upon 


I 


JB 


A  MOHT  ON  TAIIAWUS. 


79 


folm 

'.ind 

the 

iho 

way 

upon 


Avliat  appears  to  !)0  an  iiniiiliahilctl  wildernrss,  with  inoun- 
taiiis,  ladiiiL""  lo  the  sky  in  every  direction,  and  win  re,  on  a 
clear  d.iy,  you  niiiy  eount  not  less  than  twenty-tour  lakes, 
ineludinL""  Chainplain,  Iloricou,  r,()ni,r  Lake;  and  liake  Pleasant. 
While  tryini(  to  i^o  to  sleep  on  the  niuhl  in  question,  as 
[  lav  hy  the  side;  oi'  my  friend  (Jheney,  he  nave  me  an 
account  ot'  th(^  manner  in  which  certain  distinguished 
•gentlemen  have  asci.'uded  Mount  'i'ahawus,  lor  it  must  bo 
known  that  he  olluMates  as  the  i,nii(h'  of  all  travellers  in  this 
wild  rcLiion.  Amoni:^  those  to  whom  he  alluded  wvvo  \\vr- 
hani  anil  Cole  the  artists,  and  Hotfman  and  Ileadley  ihc 
travellers.  He  told  nic  that  Mr.  Iiiaham  tainted  a  nund)crof 
timers  in  makinu;'  the  ascent,  hut  hecamc  so  excited  with  all 
that  he  saw.  In;  determined  to  persevere,  and  finally  succeed- 
etl  in  accomplishiuii;  the  dillicult  task.  Mr.  Iloll'man,  he 
said,  in  spite;  of  his  lameness,  would  n(»t  he  persuaded  by 
words  that  he  could  not  reach  the  summit;  and  when  lie 
finally  discovered  that  this  task  was  utterly  beyond  his 
accomplishment,  ids  disappointment  scemeil  to  have  no 
bouiuls. 

The  niiiht  that  [  spent  on  Tahawus  was  not  distiiiLniished 
by  any  (,'vent  more  remarkable  than  a  re<:ular  built  rain- 
storm. ()ur  canopy  was  compos(;il  of  hemlock  branches, 
and  our  only  covering  was  a  blaid-cet.  The  storm  did  not  set 
in  until  about  midnii,dit,  and  my  lirst  intimation  of  its  approach 
was  the  falliuii'  of  rain  drops  directly  into  my  ear,  as  1  sniiir- 
Ued  up  to  my  bed-fellow  for  the  purpose  of  keepinii"  warm. 
Desperate,  indeed,  were  the  ellbrts  I  made  to  Ibnret  my  con- 
diticm  in  sleep,  as  the  rain  fell  more  abvuidantly,  and  drenched 
me,  as  well  as  my  comj)anion,  to  the  very  skin.  The  thun- 
der Ixdlowed  as  if  in  the  enjoyment  of  a  very  liappy  frolic. 
and  the  liLditninir  seinned  determined  to  root  up  a  few  trees  in 
our  imnu'diate  vicinity,  as  if  for  the  purpose  of  aivinu-  us  more 
room.    Finally  Cheney  rose  frouj  his  pillow,  (which  was  a  log 


:-t 


80 


A  TOUR  TO  THE  RIVER  SAOFENAY. 


of  wood.)  and  proposed  that  wo  shoidd  ([iiall'a  liltlo  In-aiulv,  to 
kvA'.p  us  froiii  catcliintr  cold,  whi(di  wo  did,  and  then  nr.nU'. 
aiioth<'r  attempt  to  reach  the  hind  ol"  Xod.  "  ■  '•  At 
llie  hreak  of  day  we  wer(?  awakened  iVoni  a  short  but  refresh- 
iii<T  sU'cp,  hy  th(3  siniiinir  ol"  hirds,  and  when  the;  ehecrrul 
nioouliiilit  liad  reached  tht^  bottom  of  the  ravines,  we  were 
cujoyiiiL!'  a  comlbrtabh;  breakfast  in   the  cabin  of  my  friend. 

'J'he  principal  attractions  associated  with  'J'ahawus,  are 
the  Indian  Pass,  the  Adirondac  Lakes,  the  Adirondac  iron 
works,  and  the  miuhty  hunter  of  the  Adirondacs,  ,Iohn 
Cheney.  'J'he  J\tss,  so  called,  is  oidy  an  old-fashioned  notch 
between  the  mountains.  On  one  side  is  a  |)erpeiidicular 
precipice,  risin*,^  to  the  heiirht  of  eleven  huiulred  feet;  and,  on 
the  other,  a  wood-covered  mountain,  ascendinti'  l:ir  up  into 
the  sky,  at  an  an^le  of  IbrtN^-live  dcirrees.  'J'hrouuh  this  pass 
flows  a  tiny  rivulet,  over  whi(,'h  the  ro(dis  are  so  thickly 
piled,  as  frequently  to  Ibrm  pitfalls  that  measure  from  ten  to 
tliirtv  leet  in  depth. — Some  of  these  holes  are  nev(!r  destitute 
of  ice,  and  are  cool  and  comfortable  even  at  midsummer. 
TJie  Pass  is  nearly  half  a  mile  in  lenL^th,  and,  at  one  j)oint, 
certain  immense  boulders  have  come  toixether  and  formed  a 
cavern,  which  is  called  the  "  meelini^  house,"  and  is,  per- 
liaj)s,  caj)a!de  of  contamin.u"  one  thousand  people.  'J'he  rock 
on  eitiier  side  of  tlu;  J'ass  is  a  i^ray  {iranit(%  and  its  only  in- 
liabilants  are  ea<>ies,  whicdi  are  (|uile  ahundant,  and  occupy 
the   most  couspimious  cra^'  in  the  notch. 

The  two  princij^d  lakes  which  ocm  the  Adirondac  wilder- 
ness, are  named  Sanford  and  lltMiderson,  after  the  two  <i;en- 
tleincn  who  first  [)urchased  land  upon  their  borders.  The 
former  is  five  miles  in  lennlh,  and  the  latter  somewhat  less 
than  three,  both  of  iIumu  varyiui>-  in  width  from  half  a  mile  to 
a  mile  anil  a  half.  'J'he  mountains  which  swoop  down  to  their 
bosoms  are  covered  with  forest,  and  abound  in  a  great  variety 
of  large   game.     There  is   not,  to   my   knowledge,  a  single 


1 


; 


% 


LAKES  SANTORD  AND   IIFNDERSOX. 


81 


hahitiilioii  on  oillicr  of  the  lakes,  and   the   only  siiioko  over 
seen   to  ascciul   iVoni   tluMr  lonely  recesses,  comes   from  the 
watch-lire  of  the;   hunter,   or  the   encampment  of  surveyors 
and   touri^^ls. — The   water  of  these   lakes   is   cold   and   deep, 
and  moderately  supplied  with   salmon  trout.      Lake  Hender- 
son is  admirahly  situated  for  the  exciting  sport  of  deer  huntinir, 
and  thouirh  it  contains  two  or  three  canoes,  cannot  he  entered 
from  the  West  Branch  of  the  Hudson  without  makinir  a  por- 
tage.     'J'hrouirh    Lake   Sanford,  however,   the    Hudson   takes 
a  direct  course,  and   there  is   nothiiiij'  to  impede   the   i)assaoe 
of  a  small   hoat  to  within   a  mile  of  the   iron   works,  which 
are  located  in  a  valley  hetween  the   two  lakes.      'J'he   fact  is, 
durinir  the  summer  there  is  ([uite  an  extensive  husiness  done 
on  Lake  Sanford,  in  the  way  of  '' hrinLnuir  in"  merchandize, 
and   "  carrviiiL''  out*'   the   produce  of  the   ldrtr(\     It   was   mv 
misfortune  to  make   the  inward   passajje  of  the  lake  in  com. 
pany  with   two   ijrnorant   Irishmen.     Their  hoat   was  small, 
heavily  laden,  verv  tottleish  and  leakv.      'IMiis  was  mv  onlv 
chance;    and  on   trdviuir   my  seat  with   a   palpitatinij    heart,  I 
made  an  express  hargain  with  the  men,  that  they  should  keep 
alontr    the    shore    on   their  way   up.     Thev  assented    to   mv 
wishes,  hut  immediately    ])ulled   for   the    very  centre    of  the 
lake.      1  remonstrated,  hut  thc'v  told  m(!  tiiere  was  no  danjrer. 
The  hoat  was  now  rapidly  fdliiiir  with  water,  and  thoua'lionc 
was  hailintr  with    all  his   miffht,  the    rascals  were  determined 
not  to  accede   to  my  wishes.      The  conclusion  of  the  matter 
was  that  our  shallop  hecame  water-logiretl,  and  on  linally  reach- 
ing the  shore,  tlu;   merchandize  was  <rreally  damatrcd,  and  1 
was  just  ahout  as  wet  as  1  was  anL^'V  at  the  miserahle  creatures, 
whose  obstinacy  had  not  only  irreatly  injured  their  emj)loyers, 
but  also  einlanjrered  my  own  plunder  as  well  as  my  life. 

The  iron  works  alluded  to  above,  are   located  in  a  narrovi' 
valley,  and  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  Lake  Henderson,  at 
a  place  called  Mulntyre.     Some  time  in  the  year   1830,   a 
6 


M 


82 


A  TOUR  TO  THE  RIVER  SAOUENAY. 


couple  of  Scottish  gentlemen,  named  Henderson  and  Mcln- 
tyre,  purchased  a  large  tract  of  wild  land  lying  in  this  por- 
tion of  New  York.  In  the  summer  following,  they  passed 
through  this  wilderness  on  an  exploring  expedition,  and  with 
the  assistance  of  their  Indian  guide,  discovered  that  the  bed 
of  the  valley  in  (juestion  was  literally  blocked  up  with  iron 
ore.  On  making  farther  investigations,  they  found  that  the 
whole  rocky  region  about  them  was  composed  of  valuable 
mineral,  and  they  subsequently  established  a  regular-built 
iron  establishment,  which  has  been  in  operation  ever  since. 
A  gentleman  named  Robinson  afterwards  purchased  an  in- 
terest in  the  concern,  and  it  is  now  carried  on  bv  him  and 
Mr.  Mclntyre,  though  the  principal  stockholders  are  the 
wife  and  son  of  Mr.  Henderson,  deceased. 

The  metal  manufactured  by  this  company  is  of  the  very  best 
quality  of  bar-iron ;  and  an  establishment  is  now  in  progress 
of  erection  at  Tahawus,  twelve  miles  down  the  river,  where 
a  party  of  English  gendemen  intend  to  manufacture  every 
variety  of  steel.  The  iron  works  give  employment  to  about 
one  hundred  and  fifty  men,  whose  wages  vary  from  one  to 
four  dollars  per  day.  The  society  of  the  place,  you  may 
well  imagine,  is  decidedly  original ;  but  the  prominent  indi- 
vidual, and  only  remarkable  man  who  resides  here,  is  John 
Cheney,  the  mighty  hunter  of  the  Adirondacs.  For  an  ac- 
count of  this  man,  the  reader  will  please  look  into  the  fol- 
lowing chapter. 


4 


CHAPTER    VII. 


Jdliii  Clicnoy,  tlif  Adiroiuhic  liuntcr — Smne  ct"  hi-;  cxpluis. 


ac- 
fol- 


John  Chotn/'.i  Cnhin.  Jinir. 

John  Cheney  was  born  in  New  Ilainpsliire,  hat  sjient  his 
boyhood  on  the  shores  of  Liiko  Champhiin,  and  lias  resided 
in  the  Adirondac  wilderness  about  thirteen  years.  He  has 
a  wife  and  one  child,  and  lives  in  a  conifortahle  eabin  in  the 
wild  villajre  of  Melntyre.  His  profession  is  that  of  a  hunter, 
and  he  is  in  the  habit  of  spendin<,r  about  one-half  of  his  time 
in  the  woods.  He  is  a  remarkably  amiable  and  intellijrent 
man,  and  as  unlike  the  idea  I  had  formed  of  him  as  possible. 
I  expected  from  all  that  I  had  heard,  to  see  a  hunQ,  power- 
ful, and  hairy  Nimrod  ;  but,  instead  of  such,  I  found  him 
small  in  stature,  and  bearing  more  the  appearance  of  a  modest 
and  thoughtful  student. 

The  walls  of  his  cosy  little  house,  containing  one  princi- 
pal room,  are  ornamented  with  a  large  printed  sheet  of  the 
Declaration  of  Independence,  and  two  engraved  portraits  of 
Washington  and  Jackson.  Of  guns  and  pistols  he  has  an 
abundant  supply,  and  also  a  good  stock  of  all  the  conve- 
niences for  camping  among  the  mountains.  He  keeps  one 
cow,  which  supplies  his  family  with  all  the  milk  they  need; 
but  his  favorite  animals  are  a  couple  of  hunting  dogs  named 
Buck  and  Tiger. 


84 


A  TOI'R  TO  THE  RIVER  .SACTENAY. 


As  siimnior  is  not  the  time  to  accomplish  much  in  t!io  way 
of  liuntiii<.s  my  advontiiri's  with  John  (^hcncy  liave  not  hccn 
(listinifiiishod  by  any  slirrini^  events  ;  we  have,  liow(>ver,  en- 
joyed some  rare  s|)oi-t  in  tlie  way  of  rishinL»",  '  \n\  obtained 
some  irk)rious  views  IVom  the;  tnonnlain  peaks  of  iliis  re<rion. 
Hilt  tbe  conversation  oi"  tliis  lamoiis  \imrod  lias  interested 
me  excee(hnirly,  and  wherever  we  miirht  be,  niKhr  his  own 
roof,  or  by  the  sick'  of  onr  mountain  watch-fires,  I  liave  kept 
him  busy  ill  rtM-ountinir  liis  former  adventures.  I  copied  into 
my  not(;-book  nearly  everytliinir  lie  said,  and  now  present 
my  rcack'rs  with  a  lew  extracts  relalini.^  to  his  huntini:  ex- 
ploits. 1  sliall  use  his  own  words  as  nearly  as  I  can  remem- 
ber tiiem. 

>■■  *  ^  *  ;V  * 

"  I  was  always  fond  of  hunting,  and  tlic  lirst  animal  I 
killed  was  a  fox;  I  was  then  ten  years  of  aire.  Even  from 
'•liikibood,  I  was  so  in  love  with  the  -woods  that  I  not  only 
neirl(M*ted  school,  but  was  constantly  ])orrowint''  a  irun,  or 
stealing  the  one  belonging  to  my  father,  with  which  to  fol- 
low my  favorite  amusement,  lie  found  it  a  useless  busi- 
ness to  make  a  decent  boy  of  me,  and  in  a  lit  of  desperation 
he  one  day  presented  me  with  a  common  fowling  piece.  I 
was  the  youngest  of  thirteen  children,  and  was  always  called 
the  black  sheep  of  the  family.  1  have  always  enjoyed  good 
liealtli,  and  am  forty-seven  years  of  age  ;  but  I  have  now 
passed  my  prime,  and  don't  care  about  exposing  myself  to 
any  useless  dangers. 

*  ^.  :v  ^  *  * 

"  You  ask  me  if  I  ever  hunt  on  Sunday  ;  no,  sir,  1  do  not. 
1  have  always  been  able  to  kill  enough  on  weekdays  to  give 
me  a  comfortable  living.  Since  1  came  to  live  among  the 
Adirondacs,  I  have  killed  six  hundred  deer,  four  hundred 
liable,  nineteen  moose,  tiventy-eight  bears,  six  umlves,  seven 
wild  eats,  thirty  otter,  one  panther  and  one  beaver. 
^  *  #  *  #  * 


1 

"r 


HUNTI\«  STORIES. 


85 


not. 
rive 
the 
ired 
wen 


"  As  to  that  heaver  I  was  speak itiir  al)oiit,  it  took  me  three 
vears  to  capture  him.  lor  he  was  an  ohl  IcHow,  and  rcmark- 
ahlv  cumiinnr.  He  was  the  hist,  from  all  that  I  can  h-arn. 
iliat  was  ever  taken  in  the  Slate.  One  of  the  fjOiiL'"  f/ake 
Inchar.s  olten  attempl(al  to  trap  him,  hut  withiuit  success;  lie 
usuallv  found  his  trap  spruiiir,  hni  co\ilil  nev(>r  '.""''t   a   morsrl 


of  the  heaver's 


tail 


and  so  it  was  wiih  me.  too;    hi 


t  1 


liiiallv 


fixed  a  trap  under  the  water,  near  the   entratice   to   his    dam. 
uid  it  so  happened  thai  he  one  day  stepped  into   it   and    was 


'irownec 


* 


an 


**  1  was  iToinu:  to  tell  you  somethinir  ahont  my  doir?j,  IJuek 
d  Tiller.  I've  raised  some  iifty  of  these  animals  in  my 
dav,  hut  1  never  owned  siudi  a  tormented  smart  one  as  that 
fellow  Buck.  I  helieve  there's  a  g^^o^\  deal  of  the  llniilish 
mastilV  in  him,  hiii  a  keener  eye  than  he  carries  in  his  head 
I  never  saw.  Only  look  at  that  hreast  of  his  ;  did  you  ever  sec; 
a  thicker  or  more  S(did  oiu;  .'  He's  handsomely  spotted,  as  vou 
may  see.  hut  some  of  the  devilish  liake  IMeasant  Itulians  cut 
ofl"  his  ears  and  tail  ahout  a  year  aixo,  and  he  now  looks  rather 
Id.     ^  on  may  not  hi  lieve  it,  hut  I  have  ■r^vvn  a  aood  manv 


0( 


men   who  were  w.  ;  half  as  sensihle  as  that  verv  doL^     When- 
ever the  fellow's  Imnirrv  he  alwavs  seats  himself  at  mv  feet 


and  trives  three  short  oarUs,  winch  is  his  way  ol  lelliiiir  me 
dial  he  would  like  some  hread  and  meat.  If  the  folks  hap- 
pen to  he  away  irom  liomtN  and  he  feels  a  little  sharp,  he  pays 
a  retrular  visit  to  all  the  houses  in  the  vilhiire,  and  after  phiy- 
injT  with  tlie  children,  harks  for  a  dry  crust,  wlii(di  In;  always 
receives,  and  then  comes  haidv  to  his  own  home.  He's  (|uite 
a  favorite  amonir  the  children,  and  I've  witnessed  more  than 
one  fi^iht  hecanse  some  wicked  little  scamp  had  thrown  Ji 
stone  at  him.  When  I  speak  to  him  he  understands  me  jnsi 
as  well  as  you  do.  I  can  wake  liiin  out  of  a  sound  sleep, 
and  by  my  saying,  '  lUick,  go  up  and  kiss  the  baby,'   lie 


80 


A  TOUR  TO  THE  RIVER  SAGIENAY. 


if 


f     I 


wi!!  march  dircftly  to  the  cradle  aiul  lick  llio  baby's  face;  and 
tli(?  way  he  watclics  that  baby  when  it's  asleep,  is  perfectly 
curious, — he'd  t(uir  you  to  pieces  in  three  minutes  if  you 
were  to  try  to  take  it  away.  Buck  is  now  four  years  old,  and 
thouj^h  he's  helped  nie  to  kill  several  hundred  deer,  he  never 
lost  one  for  me  yet.  Whenc^ver  I  f^o  a  hunting,  and  don't 
want  him  alonjr,  I  have  oidy  to  say,  MJuck,  you  must  not  ffo,' 
— and  he  remains  quiet:  there's  no  use  in  chainiuir  him,  I  tell 
you,  for  he  understands  his  business.  Tliis  doir  never  starts 
after  a  deer  until  I  tell  him  to  go,  even  if  the  deer  is  in 
siirhl.  Why  'twas  only  the  other  day  that  Tijzer  brou«dit  in 
a  (lo(!  to  Jjake  Colden,  where  the  two  had  a  desperate  light 
within  a  hundred  yards  of  the  spot  where  liuck  and  myself 
were  seated.  I  wanted  to  try  the  metal  of  'J'iijer,  and  told 
Huck  he  must  not  stir,  thougli  I  went  up  to  the  doe  to  see 
wliat  the  result  would  be  between  the  lighters.  Buck  didn't 
move  out  of  his  tracks,  but  the  way  he  howled  for  a  little 
taste  of  blood  was  perfecUy  awful.  I  almost  thought  the 
fellow  would  die  in  his  agony.  Buck  is  ol"  ffreat  use  to  me, 
when  I  am  oil"  hunting,  in  more  ways  than  one.  If  I  happen 
to  be  lost  in  a  snow  storm,  which  is  sometimes  the  case,  1 
only  have  to  tell  him  to  go  home,  and  if  I  follow  his  tracks  I 
am  sure  to  come  out  in  safety;  and  when  sleeping  in  the 
woods  at  night,  1  never  have  any  other  pillow  than  Buck's 
\nn\y.  As  to  my  black  dog  Tiger,  he  isn't  (piite  two  years 
old  yet,  but  he's  going  to  make  a  great  hunter.  1  am  trying 
hard  now-a-days  to  break  him  of  a  very  foolish  habit  of  kill- 
ing  porcupines.  Not  only  does  he  attack  every  one  he  sees, 
but  he  goes  out  to  hunt  them,  and  often  comes  home  all 
covered  with  their  (luills.  It  was  only  the  other  day  that  he 
came  home  with  ai)out  twenty  quills  working  their  way  into 
his  snout.  It  so  happened,  however,  that  they  did  not  kill 
him,  because  he  let  me  pull  them  all  out  with  a  pair  of  pin- 
cers, and   that  too  without  budging  an  inch.     About  the  story 


t^ 


ii\ 


HUNTINO  STORIES. 


87 


people  tell,  thai  the  ])orcupiiie  throirn  its  quills,  1  can  tell  you 
it's  no  such  thinir, — it  is  only  when  the  (piills  touch  the. dog, 
that  they  coniu  out  and  work  their  wav  throui;h  liis  hody. 


uig 
kill- 
sees, 
all 
\the 
into 
kill 
pin- 
itory 


"  As  to  (leer  huntinff,  1  can  tell  you  more  stories  in  that  line 
than  vouM  care  about  lieariuir.  They  have  several  ways  ol 
killinLT  tlicin  in  this  (juarter,  and  some  of  their  ways  are  so 
internal  mean.  I'm  surprised  that  there  should  he  any  deer 
left  in  the  country.  Jn  the  tlrst  place,  there's  the  'still 
iiuntinjr'  fashion,  when  you  lay  in  ambush  near  a  salt  lick, 
and  shoot  the  poor  creatures  when  they're  not  thiukinu  of 
vou.  And  there's  the  beastly  manner  of  blindini'  them  with 
a  '  torch  liirht'  when  they  come  into  tiie  lakt;s  to  cool  them- 
selves, and  <ret  away  from  the  llies,  duriui(  the  ^varm  nights 
of  summer.  Now  1  say,  that  no  decent  man  will  take  this 
advantaire  of  wild  <rame,  unless  iu;  is  in  :i  starvinir  condition. 
The  t)nlv  manlv  wav  to  kill  deer  is  bv  'drivinu'  them,  as 
I  do,  with  a  cou))lc  of  hounds. 

"  There  isn't  a  creature  in  this  whole  wilderness  that  I  think 
so  much  (jf  as  a  deer.  They  are  so  beautiful,  with  their  briirht 
eyes,  (rraceful  necks,  and  sinewy  lejrs  ;  and  they  arc;  so  swift, 
and  make  such  splendid  leaps  when  hard  pressed;  why, 
I've  seen  a  buck  jump  from  a  dill"  that  was  forty  feet  liitrh, 
and  that,  too,  without  injurinfr  a  hair.  1  wish  1  could  lij-et  my 
liviuir  wiijiout  killino-  this  beautiful  animal! — but  I  must  live, 
and  1  sujjpose  they  were  madi'  to  die.  The  cry  of  the  deer, 
when  in  the  aijonies  of  death,  is  the  awlulest  sound  1  ever 
heard  ; — I'd  a  L^Dod  deal  rather  hear  the  scream  of  the  pan- 
ther, j)r()vided  1  have  a  ball  in  my  pistol,  and  the  pistol  is 
in  my  hand.     1  wish  they  woidd  never  speak  so. 

"  'J'lic  time  for  takini^  deer  is  in  the  fall  and  winter.  It's  a 
curious  fact,  that  when  a  deer  is  at  all  frightened,  he  cannot 
stand  upon  smooth  ice,  while,  at  the  same  time,  when  not 
afraid  of  being  caught,  he  will   not  only  walk,  but   actually 


mtamtmmtm^tmmm 


I 


f     \ 


i  ! 


88 


A    roi  K  TO   TIIF-:   KI\FR  SACIKVAV. 


Irot  luToss  a  lake  as  sinoolh  as  irlass.  It's  a  i^lorioiis  si<rht 
to  sec  lliciii  nmniiiL''  dou'ii  lli''  moimlaiiis.  wilh  ihc  doas  liowl- 
iiiLT  lH'liiii(l  ;  lull  I  (Idii't  lliiiilv  I  cvrr  saw  a  iiion-  hcaiiliriil 
race  than  1  (mcc  did  oii  Lake  I  Iciidcrsoii,  lictwccii  a  biiidv 
deer  and  m\  doL*"  liiick,  wIkmi  liic  lake  was  covcitiI  with  a 
liilhi  fall  ol'  snow.  I  had  [)iit  IJiick  upon  a  fresh  tra(dv,  and 
was  M-aiiinn  |'oi-  lijni  on  ihe  \:\\\V  sliorc.  Prcscnllv,  a  sph>n- 
did  deer  honndcd  out  ol"  the  woods  npon  \\\v  \ro,  and  as  th(^ 
dotr  \\;is  onl\'  a  lew  paces  oil",  he  h'd  lh(.'  race  direcll\'  across 
the  lake.  Awav  ihey  ran  as  il"  a  hurricane  was  alter  them; 
crossed  the  lake,  then  hacdv  aLTain.  Then  ihev  made  anolh(>r 
will  el.  and  liavinu-  run  to  lh(>  exlrcMnc^  southern  jxdnt  ol'  tlTo 
lake,  aiiain  returned,  when  the  deer's  wind  <i;av(?  out,  and  the 
do^"  caiii>ht  and  threw  the  creature,  into  whos(>  throat  1  soon 
pluniicd  mv  knile,  and  tlu^  race  was  eiuled. 

'*  !    ne\('r  was   so   hadK'  hurt    in   htmtinii  an\"  animal    as    I 
ha\('  heen  in  huiitmLr  deer.      It  was  while  chasing-  a  hiick   on 


CI 


leiiev  s 


Lai. 


ic 


which  was 


named    alter    me    hv  Mr.   Hen- 


derson   in  commenioratioii  of  my  escape,)  that   I   once   shot 


mvsell    in  a  verv  had  wav 


1  was   in   a  canoe,  and  had  laid 


mv  ])ist()|  down    hy  mv  sule,  when,  as    I  was   pressing" 


I 


hard 


upon  the  animal,  my  pistol  slij)ped  under  me  m   some  (pieer 


wav,  and  went  oil,  s(mu 


lino- 


a  l)a 


11  iiit( 


o  my  let];,  pisl  ahove  the 


ankle,  wliudi  came  out  just  helow  the  knee.  I  knew  sonuMJiiiiir 
terrible  had  hapj)ened,  and  thouah  I  'liouirht  that  I  miiiht  die,  I 
was  dcMermined  that  tli(>  ileer  should  die  lirst;  and  I  ilid  siic- 
eeod  in  killinir  him  before  he  reaehed  the  shore,  lint,  soon 
as  the  cxeilement  was  over,  the  j)ain  I  had  ll'lt  before  was 
increase''  a  thousand-fold,  and  1  felt  as  if  all  the  devils  in 
hell  were  drai>irin«r  at  my  let»",  the  weifihtiuul  the  ni^oiiy  were  so 
ureal.  1  had  never  siillered  so  before,  and  I  ihouij^ht  it  strantre. 
Vou  may  not  bidieve  it,  i)ut  when  that  accident  liap])e!ied,  1 
was  fourteen  miles  from  home,  and  yet,  even  with  that  used- 
up  letr,  1  succeedi'd  in  reachinii;  my  home,  where  I  was  con- 


f; 


nr\TiN(;  stoiuf.s. 


89 


lined  lo  iiiv  lied  iVoiii  (Jctolicr  until  \|)ril.  'V\\;i  was  a  (.n-oat 
winter  lor  liuntniii"  wliicii  I  iiiis.-cd  ;  hu'  ni\'  Icir  i^ot  entirely 
well,  and  is  now   as  nood  as  excr. 

"The  most  s:n'aL'('  animal  iliat  I  liunt  lor  ainonii  these 
monntains,  is  the  nniovc,  or  cumIioo,  as  I  lia\'e  heard  some 
people  call  them.  TlieN're  (juite  pientv  in  the  reniitn  of 
LonLT  liakr  and  Lake  IMeasant  ;  and  il'  the  hunter  don't  un- 
derstaml  iheir  \\a\s.  iie'll  he  IdvcK  to  L'^el  killed  helore  ho 
thinks  ol'  his  danncr.  The  nnxise  is  the  lamest  animal  of 
the  deer  kind,  or,  in  laet,  (d'  aiiv  kind  that  we  lind  in  'his 
part  ol'  the  eounlrv.  1 1  is  horns  are  \crv  laruc  and  usually 
lo(dv  like  a  pair  of  erah-apple  trees.  lie  has  a  loiiL''  heail, 
louii'  h'L^s.  and  ma'  <'s  a  tjreat  noise  when  he  traxcls;  his  llesli 
)s  considei-rd  first  rate,  lor  he  leeds  upon  grass,  and  ih"  teti- 
der  huds  ol' the  moose  maple.  lie  is  a  rapid  tra\-eller,  and 
hard  to  tire  out.  In  wint(  r  they  run  in  herds  ;  ai'd  when 
the  snow  is  deep,  thev  irenerallv  live  in  cme  particular  place  in 
the  woods  which  we  call  a  '  vard.'  The  craid^  time  ler  kill- 
ini:  them  is  the  winter,  wIkmi  we  can  travel  on  the  si.ow  with 
our  hraided  snow  shoes. 

"  I  once  killed  two  moose  helore  nine  o'ekxdv  in  the  moni- 
in<i.  I  had  Ixm'ii  out  a  huntiuL'"  I<h'  two  days,  in  the  winter, 
and  when  ninlit  canu^  (Ui,  I  had  to  camp  out  near  !he  loot  of 
old  Tahawus.  When  I  liot  up  in  the  morniiiL'".  :nid  was  ahoul 
to  start  lor  honu'.  1  discoM-rcd  a  yard,  wher(>  lav  a  couple  of 
hull  moos(>.  1  don't  know  wnat  thev  were  thinkiiiLT  ahout, 
hut  just  as  soon  as  they  sa.w  me,  the\'  jtimped  up,  and  made 
directly  towards  the  place  where  1  was  HtandinL^  I  couldn't 
cet  (dear  of  their  uiily  feet  without  runninir,  so  I  put  for  a 
larife  dead  tree  that  Inid  hlown  over,  and  walkin<r  to  tho  hutt 
cm!  of  it,  which  was  some  ten  fe(>t  !ii(rh,  looked  down  in 
safety  upon  lli  ■  devils.  Tlujy  seemed  to  bt;  very  iiuul  al)out 
somethinL^  and   did   everythinir   tlu'V  eouUI    to  jjfet  at  me.  l>y 


I 


f: 


uo 


A  TOUR  TO   THE   RIVER  SAGUENAY. 


I  ■ 


!, 


runniiijr  around;  aiul  I  r('incml)cr  ihey  ran  togellier,  as  if  ihey 
liail  been  yoked.  1  waited  for  a  jrood  cliance  to  shoot,  and 
when  1  ^ot  it,  fired  a  ball  elear  through  one  of  the  animals, 
into  the  shoulder  of  the  second,  'i'he  tirstonc  dropped  dead 
as  a  dooi  nail,  but  tiie  other  took  to  his  heels,  and  after  going 
about  fifty  rods,  concluded  to  lie  down.  I  then  came  up  to 
him,  keeping  my  dogs  back  for  the  purpose  of  sticking  him, 
when  he  jumped  up  again,  and  put  after  me  like  lightning. 
I  ran  to  a  big  slump,  and  after  I  had  fairly  fixed  myself,  1 
loaded  again,  and  again  tired,  when  the  fellow  tunil)lcd  in  the 
snow  ([uite   dead,     lie   was   eiglit   feet   high,  and   a   perfect 

roarer. 

*  *  *-  *  *■  * 

"  Another  animal  that  we  sometimes  find  pretty  plenty  in 
these  woods,  is  the  big  gray  wolf;  they  arc  savage  fellows, 
and  dang(!r()us  to  meet  with  when  angry.  On  getting  up 
early  one  winter  morning,  1  noticed,  in  the  back  part  of  iny 
garden,  what  1  thought  to  be  a  woif  track.  1  got  my  gun, 
called  for  my  dogs,  and  started  on  llu;  hunt.  I  found  I  lie  fel- 
low in  his  den  among  tlie  mountains.  1  kindled  a  lire,  and 
smoked  him  out.  I  then  chaseil  him  for  ai)out  two  miles, 
when  he  came  to  bay.  lie  was  a  big  iellow,  and  my  dogs 
were  afraid  to  clinch  in  ; — dogs  hat  >  :.  wolf  worse  than  any 
other  animal.  I  found  I  had  a  fair  chance,  so  I  tired  at  the 
creature;  but  my  gun  missed  lire.  The  wolf  tluiii  attacked 
me,  and  in  striking  him  with  my  gun,  1  broke  it  all  to  pieces. 
1  was  in  a  bad  fix,  1  tell  you,  but  1  immediately  threw  myself 
on  my  back,  with  my  snow  shoes  above  me,  when  the  v/olf 
jumped  right  on  to  my  body,  and,  probably,  would  have  killed 
me,  had  it  not  been  for  my  di»g  Huck,  who  worried  the  wolf 
so  badly,  that  the  devil  left  me,  to  fight  the  dog.  While  they 
were  lighting  with  all  their  might,  1  jumped  uj),  took  the  bar- 
rel  of  my   gun,  and  settled   it   right  into   the  brain  of    the 


?■•'■' 


I 


I 


HUNTING  STORIES. 


91 


I'll" 


■:^^ 


I- 


savatje  animal.     That  was  the  lamest  wolf  ever  killed  in  this 
wilderness. 

^P  ^^  ^P  ^^  *r*  "t* 

"  One  of  the  hardest  llirhts  I  ever  had  in  these  woods  was 
with  a  hhu'k  bear.  1  was  comiiiir  from  a  winter  hunt.  The 
snow  was  very  deep,  ami  1  had  on  my  snow  shoes.  It  so 
hap[)ened,  as  I  was  eomini:  down  a  ecrtain  mountain,  the 
snow  suddenly  jjave  way  under  me,  and  I  i'ell  into  the  hole 
or  winter  (quarters  ol"  one  of  the  blackest  and  lartrest  bears 
I  evi  r  saw.  'J'he  fellow  was  quite  as  much  frightened  as 
I  was,  and  he  scampered  out  of  tlie  den  in  a  'jreat  hurry. 
I  was  very  tired,  and  had  only  one  doij-  with  me  at  the;  time, 
but  I  put  after  him.  I  liad  three  several  battles  with  him, 
and  in  one  of  these;  lie  struck  mv  hand  with  such  lorc(i  as  to 
send  my  ^un  at  least  twenty  or  thirty  feet  from  where  we  stood. 
I  finally  managed  to  kill  the  rascal,  however,  but  not  until  he 
had  almost  destroyed  the  life  of  my  dotr.  'J'hat  was  a  noble 
(Ioij:;  but  in  that  battle  he  received  liis  death-wound.  He 
couldn't  walk  at  the  time,  and  though  I  was  nine  miles  IVom 
home,  I  took  him  up  in  my  arms  and  brouiiht  him  ;  but  with 
all  my  nursinj^  I  could  not  ir<'t  him  up  atfaiii,  for  he  died  at 
the  end  of  a  few  weeks.  That  doji  was  one  of  the  best 
friends  I  ever  had. 

"Hut  the  m()St  danirerous  animal  in  tliis  country  is  the  yel- 
low j)aiitlier  or  j)ainter.  'J'hey  ar(;  not  \('ry  {denty,  and  so 
t(!rn\ented  cunninji-  that  it  is  very  seldom  you  can  kill  one, 
'I'liey  are  v<'ry  no|y,  but  don't  often  attack  a  man  unless 
cornered  or  womidcd.  They  look  and  act  very  much  like  a 
cat,  oidy  that  tliey  are  very  lanrc  ;  I  never  killed  but  one, and 
his  body  was  five  feet  lono;,  and  his  tail  between  [hvvv.  and 
four.  At  niuht  their  eyes  look  like  balls  of  lire,  and  v'hen 
they  are  after  game  they  make  a  hissin<>  noise,  which  is  very 
dreadful  to  hear.     Their  scream  is  also  very  terrible,  and  It 


02 


A  TOUR  TO  THE  RIVER  SAGl  ENAY. 


lii 


J 


'  I 


never  saw  tho  man  who  was  anxious  to  liear  it  more  than 
once.  Tlicy  are  srhloni  Imntod  as  a  matter  of  husiness,  but 
usually  killed  hy  aceideiit. 

*' The  panther  I  onee  killed,  I  eame  aeross  in  this  manner. 
I  was  out  on  Lake  Henderson  with  two  men,  eatehiny  fish 
'hrouLdi  the  ice,  when  we  saw  two  wolves  eome  on  to  the  ice 
in  ^reat  haste,  Iookin<T  and  aetiii<T  as  if  they  had  been  pur- 
sued. 1  proposed  to  the  men  that  we  should  all  jjo  and  kill 
them  if  we  eould.  They  wanted  to  fish,  or  were  a  litlh;  afraid, 
so  I  took  my  <Tun  and  started  after  the  irame.  I  followed 
them  some  distance,  when,  as  they  were  sealinir  a  led^re,  they 
were  attacked  by  a  biir  panther,  and  a  bloody  fiiiht  took  place. 
From  the  appearance  of  die  animals,  1  sujiposed  that  they 
had  met  before,  which  was  the  cause  whv  the  wolves  came 
upon  the  lake.  During-  the  scullle  between  the  animals,  it 
IS  a  sinirular  fact  that  thev  all  three  tund)led  oil'  the  r»reeinice 


and  fell  throujjfh  the  air  about  one  hundred  feet.     The  wolves 
jumped  uj)  and  ran  away,  while  the  panther  started  in  another 


lirection. 


I  foil 


owed  ins  track,  and  alter  (ravellmira  number 


imb( 


of  hours,  overtook  him,  and  managed  to  shoot  him  throuirh  the 
shoulder.  lie  (hen  g-ot  into  a  tree,  and  ".s  he  was  lashing  his 
Jail  and  <];ettin^  ready  to  pounce  upon  me,  I  j^ave  hiin  another 
hall,  and  he  fell  to  the  earth  with  a  ^-raslii,  and  was  quite  dead. 
I  then  went  to  the  lake  ain!  not  ihc  men  to  li^lp  nie  home  M'ith 
my  booty." 


C  II  A  P  T  E  II      V  I  li . 


Burliimtiiu — L;iUc  Champlain — l)i>tii;;.nusht'cl  jncti 


a. 


BurliuLiitoii,  June, 

Of  all  tlio  towns  whirh  I  have  seen,  Biirlinuton,  in  Ver- 
mont, is  decidedlv  one  of  the  most  beautilul.  It  stands  on 
the  sliorc  of  Lake  Champhiin,  and  from  the  water  to  its 
eastern  extremity  is  a  re^uhir  elevation,  which  rises  to  the 
hei<ditot' some  three  hunih'ed  I'eet.  Its  streets  are  broad  and 
regularly  laid  out;  the  gen(!ralily  of  its  buildings  elegant,  and 
its  inhabitants  well  etlucated,  refined  md  wxvdthy.  i\Iy  visit 
here  is  now  about  to  close,  and  I  cannot  but  follovv  the  im- 
pulses of  my  heart,  by  givinu-  my  reader  a  brief  account  of 
its  principal  piciturestjue  attractions,  and  some  information 
concerning  a  few  of  its  ])ubHc  men. 

As  a  matter  of  course,  my  first  subject  is  Lake  Champlain. 
In  apptoacliing  it  from  the  south,  and  particularly  from  Ilori- 
con,  one  is  apt  to  form  a  wrong  opinion  of  its  picturesque 
features;  but  you  cannot  pass  through  it  without  being  lavish 
in  its  praise.  It  extends,  in  a  straig^it  line  from  south  to 
north  sonu'what  over  an  hundred  miles,  and  lies  between 
the  State  of  New  York  and  Vermont.  It  is  the  gateway 
between  the  country  on  the  8t.  Lawrence,  and  that  on  the 
Hudson,  and  it  is,  therefore,  extensively  navigated  by  ^'es- 
sels   and  steamboats.     It  is  surrounded  with  nourishing  vil- 


94 


A  TOUR  TO  THE   RIVKR  SACJUKNAY. 


I-    ^i 


i 


i\ 


la^os,  wliosc  ]mpul:itiuii  is  irrncrnlly  uvmIv.  up  of  New  l''nu- 
laudcrs  and  Canadians.  Its  width  varies  from  half  a  mile 
to  thirteen;  l)nt  its  waters  [\vv.  miuhly,  exeeptin^  in  the  vici- 
nity of  IJurliniiton.  Its  islands  m-v.  not  mimerons,  hnt  one 
of  them,  Grand  IsU',  is  snlheienlly  hirjre  to  support  four  vil- 
lages, its  seenery  may  he  denominated  hold  ;  on  the  west  are 
the  Adirondac  Mountains,  and  at  some  distanee  on  tin;  east, 
the  heautiful  Circen  Mountains,  whose  glorious  commandrrs 
arc  Manslield  Mountain  and  tlie  Camel's  Hump.  Owing  to 
tlie  width  of  the  lake  at  Hurlitigton,  and  the  heauty  of  the 
western  mountains,  the  sunsets  that  are  here  visihle,  are  ex- 
ecediiiirly  suj)erh. 

The  elassie  assoeiations  of  this  lake  arc  uneommonly  inte- 
resting. Here  are  the  moss-eovered  ruins  of  Tieonderoga 
and  Crown  l*oint,  wliose  present  occupants  arc  the  snake, 
the  lizard  and  toad.  Leaden  and  iron  balls,  broken  bayonets, 
and  Knglish  Hints  have  I  picked  up  on  their  ramparts,  which 
I  cannot  look  upon  without  thinking  of  death-struggles  and 
the  horrible  shout  of  war.  And  there,  too,  is  Plattsburgh, 
ill  whose  waters  Commodore  McDonough  vindicated  the 
honor  of  the  Stars  and  Stripes  of  Freedom.  As  to  the  fish- 
ing of  this  lake,  I  have  but  a  word  to  say.  Excepting  trout, 
almost  every  variety  of  fresh  water  fish  is  found  here  in 
abundance;  but  the  water  is  not  pure,  which  is  ever  a  serious 
drawback  to  my  enjoyment  in  wetting  the  line.  Lake  Cham- 
plain  received  its  name  from  a  French  nobleman  who  disco- 
vered it  in  1009,  and  who  died  at  Quebec  in  1635. 

The  associations  I  am  now  to  speak  of  are  of  a  per- 
sonal character;  and  the  first  of  the  three  names  before  i)'\3 
is  that  of  Joseph  Torrey,  the  present  Professor  of  Moral  and 
Intellectual  Philosophy  in  the  University  of  Vermont.  As 
a  citizen,  he  is  one  of  the  most  amiable  and  beloved  of  men. 
As  one  of  the  faculty  of  the  university,  he  occupies  a  high 
rank,  and  is  a  particular  favorite  with  all  his  students.     A 


--  -? 


per- 

and 

ks 

men. 

high 


1 

4 


'M 


JOSEPir  TORRF.Y. 


95 


plrasinc  ovidcnco  of  tho  latter  fart  I  notirrd  a  few  days  sinro, 
U'he!i  it  was  r('[)()rt('(l  ainonir  tlu;  students  that  the  Professor 
had  returned  from  a  visit  to  the  Spriiiirs  for  his  lieahh.  1 
was  in  eonipaiiy  with  some  hiilf-dozeri  of  them  at  the  time, 
and  these  ;ir(;  the  remarks  tliey  made.  "  How  is  his  h(>ahh  .'" 
"  I  hope  he  has  improved  '/'  "  Now  sh:dl  I  he  ii;ipj)y — for  ever 
siiiee  he  went  away,  the  recitation  room  has  heen  a  cheerh'ss 
phiee  to  me."  "Now  shall  I  he  advised  as  to  my  essay!" 
"Now  shall  my  poem  he  corrected !"  "  Now  in  my  irouhlc 
shall  1  have  th(!symj)athies  of  a  true  friend  '/'  Much  more  mean- 
injT  is  contained  in  these;  simple  phrases  thati  what  meets  the  eye. 
Surely,  if  any  man  is  to  be  envied,  it  is  he  who  has  a  place  in 
tlic  allections  of  all  who  know  him.  As  a  scholar,  too,  Professor 
Torrey  occupies  an  exalted  station,  as  will  he  proven  to  the 
world  in  due  time.  He  has  never  published  anythinir  hut  an 
occasional  article  for  a  review,  atid  the  memoir  of  President 
Marsh,  (who  was  his  predecessor  in  the  university,)  as  con- 
tained in  the  admirable  volume  of  his  Remains,  which  shotdd 
occupy  a  conspicuous  place  in  the  library  of  every  American 
scholar  and  Christian.  The  memoir  is,  indeet',  a  rare  speci- 
men of  that  kind  of  writini^, — beautifully  written,  and  per- 
vaded by  a  spirit  of  rellnenient  tliat  is  deli<rhtful.  IJut  1  was 
mostly  interested  in  Mr.  Torrey  as  a  man  of  taste  in  the  Fine 
Arts.  In  evervthintr  but  the  mere  execution,  he  is  a  irenuine 
artist,  and  Ioiil*"  may  I  remember  the  counsels  of  his  experi- 
ence and  knowledge.  A  course  of  Lectures  on  tin;  Arts 
forms  a  portion  of  his  instruction  as  Professor,  an»l  I  trust 
that  they  will  eventually  be  published  for  the  beneiit  of  our 
country.  He  has  also  translated  from  the  German  of  Schel- 
ling,  a  most  admirable  discourse,  entitled  "  Relation  of  the 
Arts  of  Design  to  Nature;"  a  copy  of  which  ought  to  be  in 
the  possession  of  every  young  artist.  Mr.  'I'orrey  has  been  an 
extensive  traveller  in  Europe,  and  being  a  lover,  and  an  acute 
observer  of  everything  connected  with  literature  and  art,  it  is 


y() 


A  TOUR  TO  THE  lUVER  SAG UE NAY. 


I 


fc 


111 


; 


; 


quite  ;i  luxury  to  hear  liiiu  expatiate  upon  "  tlie  wonders  he 
has  seen."  He  also  examines  evervlhinir  with  the  eve  of  a 
philoso[)her,  anil  his  conclusions  arc  ever  of  practical  utility. 
Not  only  can  he  analyze  in  a  profound  manner  the  principles 
of  metaphysical  learniiiir,  hut  with  the  jrenuine  feelinirs  of  a 
poet,  descant  uj)on  the  triumphs  of  poetic  i(enius,  or  j)oint 
out  the  mind-charms  of  a  Claude  or  Titian.  Il(!  is — hut 
I  will  not  say  all  that  I  would,  for  fear  that  at  our  next  meet- 
ing he  would  chide  me  for  my  hoyish  j)ersonalities.  l^etme 
conclude,  then,  reader,  with  the  advice,  that,  if  you  ever 
chance  to  meet  the  Professor  in  your  travels,  you  must  en- 
deavor to  secure  an  introduction,  which  I  am  sure  you  cannot 
but  ever  remember  with  unfeiirned  pleasure. 

John  Henry  Hopkins,  D.  1).,  Bishop  of  Vermont,  is  another 
of  the  principal  attractions  of  lUirlintrton.  The  history  of 
his  life,  the  expression  of  his  counicnance,  and  his  treneral 
deportment  all  speak  of  the  "  peace  of  (iod."  Considering 
the  number  and  diversity  of  his  ac(iuirements,  1  think  him  a 
very  remarkable  man.  He  is  not  only,  in  point  of  character, 
well  worthy  of  his  exalted  station  as  iiishop,  but  as  a  theo- 
logian learned  and  eloquent  to  an  uncommon  degree.  His 
contributions  to  the  world  of  letters  are  of  rare  value,  as  he 
has  published  volumes  entitled  "  Christianity  Vindicated,*' 
"The  Primitive  Church,"  "The  Primitive  Creed,"  "The 
Church  of  Rome,"  "  Jiritish  lleformation,"  and  "  Letters  to 
the  Clergy."  His  style  of  writing  is  persuasive,  vigorous, 
and  (dear,  and  all  his  conidusions  seem  to  have  been  formed 
in  liiU  view  of  the  Bible,  which  is  a  virtue  well  worth  noticing 
in  these  degenerate  days.  It  is  because  of  his  honesty  and 
soundness,  1  suppose,  that  some  of  his  own  church  are 
disallected  with  his  straightforward  conduct.  Bishop  Hop- 
kins, as  a  divine,  is  of  the  same  school  with  the  late  Bishop 
While,  and  therefore  among  the  most  eminently  wise  and 
good  of  his  country. 


■) 


uEORCii;  p.  MAnsH. 


07 


•j5  ho 

of  a 
Lility. 
i-iples 
5  of  a 

point 

; but 

mt;el- 
iCi  me 
I  ever 
list  eii- 
caiiuot 

mother 
lory  ol 
general 
lUlering 
i  liim  a 
iwacter, 
a  theo- 
p.     His 
3,  as  he 
iinitCHl,*' 
'  "The 
B tiers  to 
iirorous, 
formed 
noticini^ 
c'sty  and 
irch   are 
op  II op- 
e  Bishop 


^ 


wise 


and 


The  Bisliop  of  Vermont  is  also  a  man  ol  rcmarkalih-  taste 
with   rci^ard   to  Architecture,  .Music  and    I'aintiuii",  in    wliich 
deiiartments,  as  an  amateur,  he  has  done  himself  ureat  credit. 
-Not  only   did   hi;   plan   and   superintend   iIk!    huildiuLT   of    an 
odilice  for  his  recent  sidiool,  hut  has  puhlished   an  interesting 
Ijook  on  Architecture,  wherein  lie  appears   to  he    as  muidi  (// 
//owe  as  if  he  wore  (Miristopher  Wren.      Jvnowinii'  the  market 
to  he  full  of  sentimental  nonsense  in  the  way  of  son^s.  he  com- 
posed, for  the  heuelit  of  his  own  (diildreii,  a  few  with  a  nuM'al 
toiu',  whi(di  he  also  set  to  music,  ami  are  now    puhlished  as  a 
worthy  trihute   to  liis  fine  feeliui^s  aiul  the  correciiu'ss  of  Ids 
ear.      But  he   ranks   still   lii<:her  a.s  a  man  of  taste  in    the  ca- 
])aci!v   of  Painter.      'J'he    Vermont  drawinuf-hook,  whicdi   he 
puhlished,  is  an  evidence  of  his  ability  as  a  dral'tsman.      'J'lie 
family  })ortraits  whi(di  adorn  his  walls  j)ro\('  him  to  have  an 
accurate    eve    for    color,   and    an   uncommon    knowled;,;'    of 
effect; — and    his    oil    sketcdies   of   S(;enes    I'roni    nature    uive 
l(dven  of  an  ardent   il(!Volion  to  nature.      I>iit   tlu;  hest,  in  my 
o))iuion,  of  all  his    arlistical  j)roductions.  is    a  picture    repre- 
senlinii  onr  "  Saviour  blessina'  little  children.''      Its  conc(>p- 
tion,  oroujjiiitr  and  execution    are  all  of  very  irreal  merit,  and 
1  am  persuaded  will  one   day  he   looked   upon  with    j)eculiar 
interest   bv   the    lovers    and    indues   of  art    in    this   country. 
'I'houLih  done  in  water  colors,  and  consiilered  by  tin;  artist  as 
a  mere  sketidi  for  a  lar<j:er  picture,  there  are  sf)m(!  heads  in  it 
that  would    have    called    forth   a  compliment   even    from   the 
himiMited    Allston.      Would    that    he   could  he    inlhiem-ed    to 
send  it,  for  exhibition,  to  our  National  Academy  !      And  thus 
ciuleth  my  humble  trilnite  of  api)lause  to  a  Lnfted  man. 

I  now  come  to  the  Hon.  Georire  P.  Marsh,  of  whom,  if  I 
M-ere  to  follow  the  bent  of  mv  feelings,  I  could  write  a  com- 
plete  volume.  'J'liouuh  yet  in  the  early  prime  of  life,  he  is 
a  saue  in  learninir  and  wisdom.  After  leavinjr  coUefifo  he 
settled  in   Burlinjrton,  where  he  has   since   resided,  dividing 


:| 


1 


1)8 


A  Toru  TO  Tnr  rivkk  sAf;ri;\AV. 


Ins  lime  htlwccii  lii.s  1('l'";iI  jjrolcssioii  and  the  re tirciiiciil  of 
liis  slihlv.  \V  illi  a  lar<:«'  and  lihcral  licarl,  lie  p(>ss('ss('s  all 
the  ('iidcaiiiiu'  and  inlcrcstinL'  iiualilics  \\  liicli  IxdoiiL^  to  the 
Inie  and  ae('oiM|)lislied  jiciidenian.  Jiike  all  trul\-  ureal  men, 
lie  is  exeeediniiU  relii  ini;  and  nuMlesI  in  his  dej)«)rlmenl,  and 
one  ol  that  rare  class  w  ho  seem  ne\fr  excMled  hv  the  \()i(;L' 
of  lame.  Ahonl  lonr  years  aijo,  almost  without  his  knttu  le(!i.f(', 
he  N\as  elected  to  a  seat  in  the  lower  house  ol  ( 'oniiress, 
where  he  at  once  hetran  to  mak(!  an  impression  as  a  states- 
man. 'JMumiih  lew  have  heeii  his  j)uhlic  speecdies,  the\'  are 
rcmarkahle  lor  sonnil  political  Iolhc  and  the  (dassic  eleirancc 
of  their  lan<ruai>-e.  As  an  orator,  he  is  not  showy  anil  pas- 
sionat(,',  hut  plain,  forcihle  and  earnest. 

IJut  it  is  in  dn;  walks  of  ])rivate  lite  that  A^r.  ^larsh  is  to 
1)(!  mostly  .idmired.  His  knowledge  ol"  th(^  Fiiu'  Arts  is 
i)rohal)lv  more  extensive  than  that  ol"  anv  other  man  in  this 
country,  aiul  his  critical  laste  is  ecjual  to  his  knowlediie;  hut 
that  department  peculiarly  his  hohhy,  is  eui^ravinir.  llu  has 
a  passion  for  line  enuruvinirs;  and  it  is  inupieslionahly  true, 
that  his  eoUeelion  is  the  most  valuahli;  and  extensive  in  the 
Union.  Jle  is  well  aci[uainted  with  the  history  ol"  this  art 
Troni  the  earliest  period,  and  also  with  its  various  mecdianieal 
ramilicatit)ns.  He  is  as  l"amiliar  with  the  lives  anil  peculiar 
styles  of  the  J'ainlers  and  Mnj^-ravers  ol"  anliijuity,  as  with  his 
liousehold  alVairs;  .nul  wlum  he  talks  to  you  on  his  favorite 
theme,  it  is  not  to  display  his  learniui';',  but  to  makt;  you 
realize  the  exalted  attributes  and  mission  of  universal  art. 

As  an  author,  iMr.  Marsh  has  done  but  little  in  extent, 
but  emjtiiih  to  secure  a  seat  beside  such  meu  as  Edward 
Everett,  with  whom  he  has  been  compared,  lie  has  pub- 
lished (amonfr  his  numerous  ihin^rs  of  the  kind)  a  pamphlet, 
entitled  "  The  CJodis  in  New  J'hiirhuul,''  which  is  a  fine 
specimen  of  chaste  writing  and  beautiful  thouirht;  also  ano- 
ther on  the  "  History  of  the  Mechanic  Arts,"  which  contains 


I 


1 


Aj.,- 


A    RAIli;    I.ir.llAUV 


!)!) 


i  liri'Mt  (li;i!  ot  I'lirc  ;iiii!  iiiijiorliiiit  iiironii:ilii)ii.  lie  has  iil-o 
writtiMi  ;'.ii  "  |c(l:i!i<lic  (iraiiiiinr"  of  loii  paLTs,  wliicli  crraU'il 
qiiiic  a  >(  iisa!ii)ii  aiiioiiLr  l!ic  Icanicd  dI'  Iviropc  a  fr\v  ycar-^ 
a.'i(».  \,-i  lo  Ills  scliuhirsliip — il  can  lie  said  ol  him  that  he 
is  a  iiKish  I'  in  sonic  t\\ci\c(»r  the  principal  nimhaai  aial 
ancient  hinuuaiit'S.  I!c  h.is  not  h'arncd  thcni  nn  rely  lor  thi' 
purpose  ol'  hcini!  coiisi(h'rcd  a  HliaMr\'  prodi-j'N',  hnl  to  inuhiply 
i)i-;  means  of  acipiirini:'  int  tmiaJion,  which  inlormalion  is 
intended  to  :'ccon»pIi.-di  ^omc  suhstanlial  end.  lie  is  not  a 
visionary,  hnt  a  (h'\ oted  lover  ol'  truth,  whether  il  he  in  1 1  islorv, 
I'oclry,  or  the  Arts. 

JJnt  my  ehiel'ohp'ct  in  >peakinLr  of  this  ncntleman,  was  'o 
{!itr(Hluce  a  pas-^ini!  no'.ice  of  his  lihrarv,  w  hicli  i-.  undoiiht- 
cdly  the  jnost  uni([ue  in  dii;  connIr\'.  'J'hc  ouildinn"  ilscll, 
which  stands  near  his  dwellimi',  is  ol"  hrii  1\,  and  arraniied 
t!;ronii!iout  with  ijreat  taste.  \ i\\\  enter  il,  a-;  il  was  ol'icn 
juy  pi"i\  ileiic  and  lind  \durse|i"  in  a  complete  wilderness  ol 
coi'Li'ions  hooks,  and  porltolios  ol"  enirravinLis.  Oi'  hooks 
-Mr.  .Marsh  owns  some  li\c  l.hou-^and  \(>litnies.  lli>  collec- 
tion ol' Scandiiia\  ian  Lilerature  is  snjiposcd  to  he  mure  com- 
plete than  anv  out  ol'  the  .Northern  Kinirdonis.  'J'o  tiive 
yoi!  an  idea  ol"  this  literary  treasure,  I  will  mention  a 
I'ew  ol"  the  rarest  specimens.  In  (dd  .Northern  Literature. 
Iiere  may  Ix-  I'ound  the  ./r/Ki  M(f<j;ii;r(iii  editions  ol"  old  Iia-- 
landic  Sairas,  all  of  those  of  Snhni,  all  those  of  th.e  J^>y al 
Society  of  Northern  .\nli<[uaries,  and  in  lad  all  those  printed 
at  Copeidiui,nMi  and  Stocdvhohu,  as  well  as  in  Ifehind,  with 
scana  ly  an  exception,  'i'lii.s  lihrarv  also  contains  the  LH'eat  edi- 
tions of  U(i III >ik rill ixlui  the  two  /iJdi/d.s,  A'u/iL(-s-S/i//i!:^;-SJi), 
A'unujiu'd,  S/ijri/.sr,  tin;  Seri[)lores  lieruni  Daniearuin,  Seri[)- 
lores  Kerum  Sveeicarnni,  Dansk  .Maiiazin,  :ind  t/ro  complete 
editions  ol'  Olinis  MiiLfniOi,  Sili-u  (irainiiuittnus,  the  works  of 
liartholinus,  Torlaus,  Sch'»ninii,  Suhm,  Ponloppidan,  (irundt- 
viir,   IV'lersen,    Uask,   the   Jplantlcn  of  Kudbecdv,   the  yreal 


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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  NY.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


100 


A  T(MU  TO  THE  RIVER  SAC  TEN  AY. 


m 


ih 


works  of  SpJ/iorLC,  riiljcijiroii,  (Jcijcr.  ('roiiholni  and  Slriiin- 
liohii,  all  llin  collections  of  Icelandic,  Danish  and  Swcdisli 
laws,  and  almost  all  the  writers,  ancient  and  modern,  wlio 
Jiave  treated  of  the  lanmiair(!,  literature,  or  history  of  the  vm- 
cient  Scandinavian  race. 

In  modern  Danish  liiteratiire,  liore  may  he  found  the  works 
of  1  lolhcrL^,  Wessel,  I'l  wald.  I  lejherir,  JJaL''liesen,  ( )(dd(Mischlse- 
jrer,  \veni[),  In!,n'maiin.  with  oth(;r  ceiehrated  authors;  in 
Swedish,  those  of  Lcojiold  Oxensljerna,  IJellman,  i'ranzen, 
Alt(!rl!om,  Teirner,  Frederika  IJremer.  and,  indeed,  almost  all 
the  !.'(i/('.s-/(Nrrs  authors  of  Sweden,  the  'J'raiisac!ions  of  the 
Koyal  A(*ademy  of  Science,  (more  than  one  hundred  volumes,) 
tliose  (d'  the  Swedish  Academy,  and  of  the  Royal  Academy 
of  liilerature,  and  many  collections  in  documentary  history, 
hesides  iium(>roiis  other  works. 

In  Spanish  and  l?ortiii>uese,  hesides  many  modern  authors, 
hero  are  numerous  old  chroni(des,  siudi  as  the  Madrid  col- 
IcM'tion  of  old  Spanish  Chronicles,  in  seven  volumes  Ito.;  the 
Portuguese  Llrro.s  uicdlfo.s  da  lIiHtorUi  Porhigtnza,  live 
yolunu>s  I'olio;  Fernam  Loj)ez,  do  Hrito,  Duarte  ?Sunez  de 
Liaiu,  Damiam  de  Goes,  de  Barros,  Castanheda,  Kesomle, 
Aiidrada,  Osorio ;  also,  de  Meiiezes,  Mariana,  aiul  others  of 
similar  charaoter.  In  Italian,  most  of  the  host  authors  who 
Jiavo  acquired  a  I'hiropean  reputation  ;  several  hundred 
volumes  of  French  works,  includimi'  many  of  the  ancient 
chronicles  ;  a  line  collection  in  (ierman,  including  ntany  edi- 
tions of  l-teynekc  de  V'os,  the  INihehm^ei.,  and  other  works 
of  the  midtllc  aj^es.  In  classical  literature,  good  editions  of 
the  most  ceiehrated  (J reek  and  Latin  authors;  and  in  Eno^- 
llsh,  a  choice  selection  of  the  best  authors,  amoni^  which 
should  he  mentioned  as  rare,  in  this  country,  Lord  lierners' 
Froissart,  Roger  xVscham,  the  writings  of  King  James  I., 
John  Smith's  Virginia  (edition  of  1021),  Amadis  de  Gaul, 
and  Palmeriu  of  England.     In  lexicography,  the  best  dic- 


». 


A  PARK   LTRRARY. 


101 


^ 


lioiiarios  luivl  i:r;imiiiars  in  all  the  laiiiiiiaLics  of  WCstcni  Mil- 
rope,  and  inaiiv  i)i()L'"rai)liiral  diclioiiarics  and  other  works  ot 
•f(drr('n>a'  in  \arious  lanuuairrs.  .Manv  works,  too,  arc  lu're. 
on  astroloiiv,  alclicniN',  wiudicral'i,  ami  niaiiic;  and  a  Li()<>dlv 
nnnd)er  of  wdrks  on  ilii'  situation  ol'  IMato's  Atlantis  m\d 
lOKsian  I'lclds,  su(di  as  Iv'udlx'ck's  Atlanlira.  (nu-opins  \]v- 
eani'.s,  {\('  (iraxc  iifpuhiiijuc  dcs  ('liainps  Idxsocs.  uiul  a 
iiost  of  others  in  e\ery  dej)arl!neiit  of  iearniiiLi",  the  iiierc 
nientioii  ol'  wliieh  would  cause  tlie  bookworm  a  ihrdi  ol 
dt'liii'ht. 

In  the  (ici)artnienl  td' Art,  Mr.  Marsh  possesses  the  .Musee 
Franeais.  .Muscc  lto}'al.  (proof  hcforc  letters.;  l>il)er  \  erita.- 
(is,  lioiiijliton  (iallcr)'.  I'loreiicc  (iallcr\'.  I'uhlicniidus  ot' 
Dilettanti  Society,  and  nian\  oilier  illu-trated  work- and  col- 
lections <ii' enijravintis  ;  the  WvU'ks  of  I'artsfdi.  ( )tile\',  Meinjs, 
\  isconti,  Wiiudu'lniann,  ami  other  writers  on  the  hi-^torv  ami 
theory  of  Art;  old  illustrated  works,  ;inionL!'  wliich  are  tin; 
orisiinal  editions  of  Teuerdanck  an.d  l)cr  W'ci-^s  Kuniii';  and 
man}  thousand  stei  1  enLira\  imj-^,  includinii'  nian\'  oriuiiiais  hv 
Albert  Diirer,  liid\i'  ol'  Lexden.  Lucas  ( 'ranach,  MdcMrcuer, 
\\  ier\,  the  Sadiders  Nauteuil.  (annuiL!'  others  the  celebrated 
liouis  A  I  \'.,  size  of  life,  and  a  proof  of  the  ( 'adet  ;1  la  !  *erle, 
i)y  Masson.)  Ivleliidv,  Drevet,  .Marc  Antonio,  and  other  old 
cni»ra\('rs  of  the  Italian  s'diool  ;  ('allot,  (  >siade,  Ixendn-andt, 
(imdudiiiir  a  most  superli  imju'cssion  <tf  the('liri'^l  llealimr 
tlu!  Sick,  the  Hundred  (iuilder  Piece,  and  the  i'ortrai;  of  ]^> 
nier  Ansloo.)  Waterloo,  W^oolleit,  Sharp.  Strannc,  I'birlom, 
Wide,  Fic(iuel  Sclimifit,  Jionsjlii,  ami  Moriihen;  in  >hort, 
nearly  all  the  works  of  all  the  nreal  masters  in  (dialco- 
i^raphy  from  the  tinu'  of  J)iirer  to  the  present  daw  It  were 
folly  for  me  to  praise  these  various  works,  and  I  have  alluded 
to  them  merely  (or  the  purpose  of  leitini»"  von  km)W  some- 
tliiii;''  of  the  taste  ami  jiossessimis  of  .Mr.  .Marsh.  1 1  is  li!)rarv 
is  one  of  the  most  delightful  places  it  has  ever  been  mv  for- 


I 


u 


I 


102 


A  TOT'R  TO  TirE   RJVER  SAGITXAY. 


imic  to  visit,  mid  tlio  day  thai  I  licoaino  ncquaintod  \\illi  tlic 
liiaii,  r  camiot  but  consider  as  an  ora  in  mv  life.  Moriiiiin;, 
noon  and  evcninu'  did  1  linufr  with  the  mastor-sj)irits  oi 
oldcii  tiiii(%  eollt'ctcd  in  Iiis  library,  and  tbongli  I  often  stood 
in  nuito  a(hniration  of  their  genius,  I  was  eonipeHed  to  slied 
a  tear,  as  I  thouirht  of  the  destiny  as  a  writer  whieli  will  j)ro- 
bablv  be  mine.  Thatdv  (Jod,  th(?r(?  is  no  sneli  thiiiLT  :i!^  (fni- 
fiiflnn  in  thai  l)l(vssed  world  above  the  stars,  which  I  hope 
to  attain, — no  and)ilion  to  harass  the  soul, — for,  then  ^vill  ii 
be  free  to  vcncl,  and  forever,  in  its  holy  and  <i"odlilve  concep- 
tions. Hut  a  truc(^  to  this  strain  of  thouiiht,  and  also  to  the 
liions  of  IJurlington,  ul"  whom  I  iio'v  take  niy  leave  with  a 
respectful  bow. 


l 


f 


.1 


fe 


It 


CTI  APTIllv*     I\ 


NlnuM'  rii;i,-]i— 'I'lir  "\VillM(j.~Ki 'I'li,.  (IfiTll    Mi  illlit;iili< 'I'lh'  rililli'd  i!  wcli- 

illi: 'I'lic     White    .'\IiiiliiI;iili The      I-'hlllir  — -A     (I   'III     [Mini Til.'     Olil 

M;ui    lit'  the    Mdiiiitaiii — 'I'lir    IJii-in — I'l  niH'i  iiii:i    Xntrli — \  i'.'V.'  <  il'  llir 
iiH.  iiiit;iiii- — MiMiiit  \V;i.-liiiiL;tiiii — 'i'ln'  Xnlrli  N'alli'V. 


Ill  II  Sfir^r  Coiirh. — JiDlC. 

'J'liUKi:  lodtl  knocks  upon  my  hcd-room  door  ;i\v;ik(MiO(l 
nif  tVoiii  '"a  (Iccji  (lr(':iin  of  pcaco."  ''The  I'lasicrii  sta<r<'  is 
rctuly,''  said  my  landlord  as  lie  handed  me  a  liiilit.  \\  h('r(>- 
upon,  in  less  diaii  live  ininntrs  after  the  hour  of  three,  1  was 
on  my  \v:iy  to  the  AVhile  Mountains,  iiulifiiiL''  on  the  tablet 
of  my  UKMUory  the  followiuL'"  disjointed  sta<ie-eoaeh  rhapsody. 

A  tine  eoa(di.  tonrtiu'ii  ])assen!_n'rs,  and  six  super!)  horses. 
i\Iy  seat  is  on  the  outside  and  my  eyes  on  the  alert  for  anv- 
thinir  of  peenlitir  interest  whiidi  I  may  nu'et  with  in  my 
journey.  ^()w  do  the  heautiftd  (ireen  Mountains  meet  my 
view,  '['he  day  is  hreakiiiLf,  ami  lo  !  upon  either  sule  of  mo, 
and  like  two  h'aders  of  an  army,  rise  the  peaks  of  Mansliejd 
Mountains  ami  the  ('amel's  Hump.  Around  the  lormer  the 
elond-spirits  of  early  nmrnini;-  arc;  pieturinL;-  the  fantastic  j)o- 
etry  of  the  sky;  while  just  ahove  tiic  .iimmil  of  the  other 
may  he  s(>(>n  the  new  moon  ami  the  morninijf  star,  waitinir  lor 
the  sun  to  come,  like  tu'o  sweet  human  sisters  for  tin;  smiles 
wnd  kisses  of  a  returinn<r  lather.  And  now,  as  the  sunheams 
glide  alono-  tlie  earth,  we  are  in  tlie  solitude  of  the  mountains, 


1(K 


A    roiri  TO  TIIK   RIVKR  SAGFEXAV. 


12 


it 


« 


:ui(l  tlic  ;i\\  ;ik('iir(l  inist-ci"(':itiii"('S  wvc  ascciuliiiL''  iVoiii  the  cool 
aiul  sli.!(l\    nooks  ill  the  ili'c^)  riniiics. 

^()llllL!  Dioia's  (icscriptioii  of  a  sliip  niidcr  lull  s;iil  is  \cvy 
liiic.  luit  it  (Iocs  no!  possess  llic  li\iiiL;'  licaiitN'  of  ill.. I  pii-tiiru 
now  ItfloiH'  iiic,  ill  lliosc  six  1);!\-  horses,  slraiiiiiii;'  e\('iv  iiervo 
lo  eclipse  tlit>  iuoniino-  lu'ee/e.  Hold  your  hreatli,  lor  the 
road  is  hard  and  smooth  as  iiiarhle,  and  tlie  extended  nostrils 
ol  those  inal(ddess  steeds  spenk  of  a  nohlo  piiile  within. 
There,  lh(>  race  is  done,  the  victory  theirs,  :uul  no\v,  as  ihcy 
trot  steadily  alona,  what  music  in  the  (di:nn[)i!iL'' oT  those  hits, 
and  the  strikinii"  of  thos{>  iron-honnd  hoofs  I  Of  all  llu^  soid- 
less  animals  on  earth.  !n)iie  d(/  1  love  so  dearly  as  th.e  horse — 
I  someiimcs  am  inclined  \'.)  tlnid;  that  they  have  souls.  1 
res[)ect  a.  nohle  horse  more  than  I  do  sonu"  men.  Horses 
are  the  Indian  (diiel's  ol"  the  hrute  crc^ition. 

'I'hi^  Wiiuioski.  ahwiii"  whose  haidvs  runs  the  most  j)ictur- 
cs([uc  stauc  route  in  V  ermont,  is  an  uncommonly  intereslinij 
stream,  ra.pid,  (dear,  and  cold.  It  is  remarkable  lor  its  falls 
and  narrow  pa.s.scs.  wliere  p(M-pcndiciilar  rocks  of  a  hundred 
Icct  or  more  Crown  u[)on  its  solitary  pools.  Its  chid"  picto- 
ri::l  attraction  is  the  cataract  at  ^Vaterl)ury.  a  d(H^p  ami  jaL!i>od 
cliasm  in  the  <xranit(;  mountain,  n  hoso  horrors  arc  iireatly 
increased  hv  the  sioht  and  smothered  liowl  ol"  an  avalanche 
of  pure  white  loam.  On  its  baidvs  ami  Ibriy  miles  i'rom  its 
outlet  near  JJnrlington,  is  situated  Montpelier,  the  cajntal  of 
V'^ermont.  It  is  a  compact  town,  mostly  built  upon  two 
streets,  and  complettdy  hemmed  in  by  rich  ami  cidlivated 
mountains.  Its  chief  attraction  to  my  mind,  however,  during 
my  short  stay,  was  a  pair  of  deei>  black  eyes,  only  half  visi- 
ble under  their  drooj)ini>'  lids. 

Durinjx  one  of  my  rambles  near  ^lontpclicr,  I  discovered 
an  isolated  and  abandoned  dwelling',  which  stands  u|)on  a 
littl(>  plot  of  orecn,  in  the  lap  of  the  forest  near  the  toj)  of  a 
mountain.     I  entered  its  deserted  eluunbers  and  spent  a  lonj^ 


3 


>i.\Ksiini:r,i)  \VATi;iir.\r,L. 


lOf) 


time  iiiiisiiin  iijHMi  ils  soil  inn  lulrnonMions.  Tlic  cclhr  had 
])(  conn'  t!ic  iKtinc  of  li/,:n"(ls  and  toads.  'I'lic  spidi'i'  ami 
crickcl  were  mallei's  of  the  licai'lli,  where  oiiee  had  heen 
^\)U\\  the  inonnlain  h'liiaid  \>v  an  oM  man  to  the  onK'  ehdd 
ol"  Ins  \\id()\\ed  son.  'i'hey  wrvr,  a>  1  am  tohl,  the  last  oJ" 
a  loiiu'  line  w  hieh  once  lh)urished  in  IJiilaiii,  and  with  them 
their  name  xvamhl  pass  inio  !'oi'<j(  llidness.  (hdv  the  years 
of  a  simile  L;<'iiefati(m  liaxc  elapsed  sim-e  then,  Imt  the  ducll- 
(M"s  of  yonder  nnMinlain  a.re  sleepinu'  in  the  Lirii^f.  And  is 
tliis  j)assiiiir  record  oi  their  existenei-  tin-  onlv  inheritance 
tliev  ha\e  lel'i  hehiml  .'  Most  true;  hnt  wonld  it  ha\-e  heen 
bvlhr  lor  them,  or  lor  us,  jiad  they  hequenthed  to  the  wandc.! 
a  noted  iianu'  or  immense  possessions'      What  is  our  lite.' 

'J'he  roule  hetueen  .Moil! [lelier  and  I)an\ille  lies  alono'  the 
W  inoo>lvi.  and  is  m)t  less  heaiilitul  than  that  down  the  riv(;r. 
Its  (diiel'  picture  is  Aiarslilield  Waterlall.  While  at  Alont- 
p(dier  a  pleasure  ride  was  u,{)\  up  hy  some  of  my  iVieiids, 
and  as  they  were  hound  to  thi'  llast,  am!  I  was  hon(n-e»l  with 
au  invitation.  I  sent  on  mv  baiioiiiic  and  joimd  them,  so  that 
lli((  monolonv  ol'  mv  jouiaiey  was  eon.siih.'rahly  r(  lievinl. 
We  had  our  lishiiiii-rods  with  us,  and  liavinn-  stopped  at  the 
tail,  we  caULiht  a  line  mess  ol'  trout,  wlii(di  we  had  cooked 
for  dinner  at  the  lU'Xt  ta\crn  on  our  wav, — ami  our  dessert 
was  fine  sinuinLT  from  the  ladies,  atid  t^ood  stories  from  the 
lips  of  Senator  Phelps,  who  \\as  of  the  partv,  and  is  cele- 
brated for  his  conversational  [)ower.s.  For  further  })artic!ulars 
concerniiiir  that  expedition,  1  would  refer  my  reader  to  that  pair 
ot  eyes  whicdi  1  just  now  meiitiomMl  as  Inivina'  beamed  upon 
me  with  a  hewit(dun<r  brilliancv.  I5ut  alas!  the  dear  creature 
is  already — excus(3  me,  1  cannot.  1  will  not  sjxndv  the  liateful 
word.  'J'he  hicdvy  fellow  ouljIiI  to  carry  a  liberal  and  kind 
soul  hereafter,  if  he  has  never  doiu'  so  Ixd'ore. 

At  coid'i-crowiiii,'-  this  moriunn-  I  was  anain  in  mv  seat  out- 
side of  the  staire-coach,  anxiously  waitiii<r  for   tiie  mists  to 


100 


A  TOT'U  TO  Tlir.   KT\  i:r  SAcrF.NAV. 


5'!     1 


('v;i|)itr:it('  ill  llic  K:ist.  The  sun  jjrovcd  to  !>(>  my  iViciul, 
and  as  soon  as  lie  ajjpcarcd,  llicx'  \:misl)('(l  like  a  iViLililf'iicd 
Irooj).  :iiid  he  was  inandniiir  up  die  sk\-  in  the  plcniludc  of 
Ids  nlory.  And  \\\{'\\,  lor  tlif  lirst  lime,  did  my  vision  rest 
ui)on  the  ^\  Into  Mounlains,  as  tlicv  reposed  in  llie  distance, 
like  a  miiihlv  herd  ol'  eanuds  in  the  solitude  of  \\\{)  desert. 
In  the  (diarniiiii!"  valley  of  the  ( "onneetieni  wo  oidv  tarried 
about  ten  nnnutes,  hut  lonn  enouuh  I'oi'  nu'  to  h(\ir  the  nio\V(M' 
wliel  iiis  scythe,  th(>  "lark  sinu'  loud  and  liiah."  and  the  plea- 
sant tinkle  of  a  cow  Ixdl  far  away  in  the  hroad  nn'adow. 
AN'hile  there  1  took  a  sketch,  wherein  I  introduced  the  lalhcr 
ol"  \ew  I'jiLiliiiid  rivers,  and  the  hald  peak  ol"  Mount  Lafay- 
(Mte,  with  the  storin-indicted  scar  upon  its  hrow.  A  noble 
inonument  is  yonder  mountain  to  the  memorv  of  a  noble 
man. 

AN  bile  breakfastinn;  at  Littleton  tins  niorninir,  1  eainc^  to  tlie 
conclusion  to  leav(!  niv  bajiuaae  and  visit  Franconia.  I 
juni])ed  into  the  staiio,  and  alter  a  very  j^leasant  ride  ol"  seven- 
teen miles,  found  myself  far  in/o  the  Notcb,  in  the  midst  of 
whose  scenery  1  am  to  rep()s(>  this  nin^ht.  I  reached  here  in 
time  to  enjoy  an  early  dinner  with  "  mine  iiost ;"  aftcn*  which  I 
sallied  forth  to  examine  the  wonders  of  tbe  place,  but  I  \vas 
so  deliobtcd  with  everytbiuii'  around  that  1  did  not  take  time 
to  make  a  single  sketcli.  I  saw  the  Flume,  and  was  aston- 
ished. It  is  a  cliasm  in  tbe  mountain,  thirty  feet  wide,  about 
a  bumlred  deep,  and  some  two  thousand  lonu',  and  as  reirular 
in  its  sbape  as  if  it  had  been  cut  by  tbe  band  of  man. 
Bridgino-  its  centre  is  a  rocdv  of  many  tons  wei<rbt,  Mbi(di  one 
Avould  suppose  could  oidv  bav(>  been  burled  tb(>re  from  the 
lieavens.  'I'brou^b  its  centre  jlows  a  little  brook,  wbicli 
soon  passes  over  a  succession  of  rocky  slides,  and  M'biidi  are 
almost  as  smootli  and  wbite  as  marble.  And  to  caj)  the 
climax,  this  Flume  is  tbe  centre  of  as  perfect  and  lioly  a 
Avilderness  of  scenery  as  could  be  iniau'ined. 


TFFE   OT,I)    MAX   OF   Tlfi;    MOIMAIN. 


i<»: 


I 


I  li;i\(>  :ils()  seen  ^\vli;il  should  he  tlic  j)|-i(lt'  ol  llic  .Merri- 
mack, as  it  is  jipoii  one  ol  its  Irilxitaric- ;,  ilic  most  s(i|)crl'> 
])ool  ill  this  whole  coiuitrv.  Tlie  tall  ahove  it  is  not  r(  iiiark- 
ahle,  hill  the  rorrsl-ccu  ered  roeks  on  either  side,  ;iiid  the  pool 
itsellare  woiiderrully  tiiic.  In  the  lirst  plaee,  voii  must  remem- 
ber thai  the  w;ilers  of  fliis  w  hole  reirioii  are  cold  as  ice,  and 
verv  (d(Mr.  'I'lu;  j)()ol  lorms  ;i  eir(de  ol'ai)(»iil  one  hundred  feci 
in  diameter,  and  is  s:u(\  to  he  lil'iv  leet  in  deplh.  ()uiiiLr  to 
the  fall  il  is  the  '*  head-iiiiarters"  of  the  trout,  w  iiiidi  aie  loiiiu] 
all  alonii'  tlu.'  stream  in  iffeat  al)iindanc(>.  After  I  iiad  com- 
pleted a  drawinuf,  i  laid  aside  m\'  peiudls  and  fixeil  m\'  llsli- 
iiiii-rod.  I  threw  the  line  Ofi^j/  ahoiil  two  hours,  and  caiiifht 
forty-li\'u  trout.  Amonu"  them  was  tlie  lireai-iirandfather  ol 
all  trout,  as  I  thought  at  tin  lime  ; — lie  was  seventeen  inches 
lonii",  and  weighed  two  ])ounds  and  one  (Minc(\ 

'J'he  ()1(1  Man  of  ihe  Mountain  i-^  another  of  the  lions  of 
tliis  place.  It  is  a  ('()ne->haj)ed  mounlain,  (al  the  foot  of 
Avhi(di  is  a  small  lake,)  iij)()n  w  hose  to[)  are  some  ro(d\S,  \v!dch 
have  a  resemhlaiice  to  the  i)rolile  ol"  an  oKl  man.  it  is  really 
a  Acry  curious  atlair.  'J'herc?  the  i^\i\  fellow  stajids,  as  he  has 
stood  periiaps  for  eeiilurii^s,  "  lookiiiL'"  the  w  hoh"  world  in  the 
lace."  I  wonder  if  the  thunder  ne\'er  iViiihteiis  him  I  and 
(Iocs  the  lio-htninu:  play  around  his  !)row  without  making- him 
wink?  His  business  there,  I  se  cose,  is  to  j)roleei  the  "un- 
granted  lands"'  of  New  IlampshiVL',  or  l^'cp  Isaac,  Hill  from 
lectiirinir  die  A\'hito  Mountains  on  lioeofocoism.  He  need 
not  trouble  himself  as  to  the  first  fear,  for  they  eould  not  be 
deeded  even  to  a  hear:  and  as  to  iIk;  second,  I  don't  beli(!vc 
the  mountains  could  ever  1)(>  persua.ded  to  vote  for  tlu,'  ac([iiisi. 
tion  of  new  territory.  I']very  plant  ui)on  tiiem  speaks  of 
Ireedom,  and  in  their  fastnesses  does  [\\v  eanle  linil  a  home; 
their  banner  synd)ols  arc  the  stars  and  stripes,  and  therefore 
thev  must  be  Whias. 


And 


another   curiosity  w  liiidi  everybody  goes    to  see,  i? 


\m 


A  TOI'R  TO  THE   RIVKR  SAOrENAY 


I 


ih 

t 


I'  i 


eallcd  llif  IJns^in — nn  rxqtiisito  little  spot — fit  for  the  abode 
of  ,'i  very  aiiucl.  It  is  Ibniu'tl  in  tlu^  solid  rock,  and  tlion<r|i 
twenty  icct  in  depth,  yon  can  see  a  sixpence  at  the  hottoni — 
it  is  so  wonderl'ully  clear.  Hut  the  wild  beauties  of  this 
Notch,  unknown  to  faino,  are  cliarininir  l)oyoiid  compare. 
TIktc  <:o('s  the  inidniirht  warniiiix  of  the  clock,  and  I  jnust 
retire.  Wor.ld  that  my  dreams  miirlit  be  of  yonder  star, 
now  beaniinu-  with  intense  briirhtness  above  the  dark  outline 
of  tlie  nearest  mountain  ! 

The  distance  from  Kniirht's  tavern  to  tlio  western  outlet  of 
Francoiiia  Notch  is  eiirht  miles.  The  eastern  staire  was  to 
pass  throuuh  about  the  middle  ol"  the  afternoon,  so  that  after 
catin<r  my  breakfast  I  started  on,  intendinir  to  enjoy  a  walk 
between  the  mountains.  With  the  conceptions  and  feelinf^s 
tbat  were  with  me  then,  I  should  have  been  willimr  to  die, 
for  I  was  very  happy.  Now  as  I  sat  upon  a  stone  to  sketch  a 
mass  of  foliaire,  a  little  red  squirrel  came  within  live  feet  of 
me,  and  commen(U'(l  a  terrible  chatterini»;,  as  if  his  lady-love 
had  given  him  the  "mitten,"  and  he  was  blowina' out  ai^ainst 
the  whole  female  sex  ;  and  now  an  okl  partriduc  with  a  score 
of  childr(  n  came  trippinir  alonn"  the  shadowy  road,  almost 
within  my  reach,  and  so  fearless  of  my  presence,  that  I 
would  not  have  harmed  one  of  them  for  a  crown.  IJoth  of 
them  were  exceeding-ly  simple  pictures,  and  yet  Uiey  allbrded 
me  a  world  of  pleasure.  I  thout^'ht  of  the  favorite  haunts  of 
these  dear  creatures, — the  hollow  tree, — the  bed  of  dry 
leaves, — the  cool  sprinnf, — the  mossy  yellow  log", — the  rocky 
ledges  overjirown  with  moss, — the  iiurjrlinir  brooklet  stealiuir 
throuti;h  tlie  trees,  with  its  fairy  water-falls  in  a  iri'ecn  shadow 
and  its  spots  of  vivid  sunliirht,' — and  of  a  thousand  other  kin- 
dred p;cnis  in  the  wonderful  pallc'ry  of  Nature.  And  now 
as  I  walked  onward,  peerinij:  into  the  gloomy  recesses  of  the 
forest  on  either  side,  or  ilxed  my  eyes  upon  the  blue  sky 
with  a  few  white  clouds  floating  in  their  g'lory,  many  of  my 


1 

\4 


t 


Tin:  I'.ALi)  ka(;t.k 


109 


favoriK;  sollL^'<   were   n'mcin'M'rctl,  :iii;|    in   w  >\y\i' /ti  (i//i(ir/i/ 
my  own,  I  j)()iir('il  them  iijioii  ilir  :iir,  whidi  were  aiisucrt'il  hv 


immiinlx  tihI  iiiouiilaiii  crluK' 


Notli 


il  tl 


iiiiL''  hail  tliPV  tn  do  Willi 


th 


tlic  place  or  with  each  ollit'i-,  hiil  likr  the  piflin'cs  aroniid  mo, 
llioy  wpro  a  divine  food  lor  niv  soul — so  iliat  I  was  in  the  en- 


joymenl  of  a  lieavenly  feast.     No 


w 


I  loidxcd  tlirouL^li  tlic 


openinL''  trees,  T  saw  an  eaule  lloatini:  a!)ove  ilie  summit  ol 
a  miuiity  elill', — now,  with  the  speed  of  a  fidhnii'  ^\'U\  (h'seeiul- 
iiiii;  iar  into  the  h'afv  (h'pths,  and  tlien,  siowly  hut  >urelv  as- 
c'CiKhiiL;-,  until  hi(hh'n  from  view  hy  a  jiassiiin-  (doud.  I'ly 
on,  j)roud  hir(K  niorious  symhol  of  my  country's  free(h)m  ! 
AVhat  a  nod-like  life  is  thine  I  Thou  art  the  "sultan  of  tho 
skv,"  and  from  thv  eranLfv  home  forever  lookest  upon  the 
abodes  of  man  with  indillereiu'c  and  scorn.  'J'lu  war-whoop 
of  tlie  savaL'(\  the  roar  of  artillery  on  the  hlooily  hattle-fudil, 
and  tin;  loud  i)oom  of  the  ocean  cannon,  have  fallen  upon 
tliv  ear,  and  lliou  hast  listened,  utterlv  heedless  as  to  whom 
bcloniicd  the  victory.  AVlial  strenuth  and  power  are  in  ihy 
puiions  !    traversinir  in  an  Jioiir  a  wider  space 

'■Than  yonder  ij'idhur  .-liij).  willi  all  her  >;iils 
W(jiiiii;,'-  the  wind.-,  raa  crn--  lb 'in  morn  till  rv(  !'' 

When  tliy  huuL^'er-sliriek  echoes  throuuh  the  wilderness,  with 
terror  does  the  wihl  animal  seek  his  ilen,  for  thy  talons  arc 
of  iron  :ind  thine  eyes  of  tire.  But  what  is  thy  messat(e  to 
the  sun  ■  Far,  far  into  the  zenith  art  thou  L^nie,  forever  gone 
— emblem  of  a  miuhtv  hope  that  onc(!  was  mine. 

My  thoutrlits  were  upon  the  earth  onc(.'  mor(!,  and  my  feet 
upon  a  hill  out  of  tlie  woods,  whence  mit>ht  be  seen  the  lon(( 
broad  vallev  of  the  Amonoosack  meltin<r  into  that  of  the 
Connecticut.  Lonii'  and  intently  did  I  <raze  upon  i\n)  hmd- 
scape,  with  its  unnumbered  farm-liouses,  reposini^  in  the  sun- 
light, and  surmounted  by  pyramids  of  liLdit-blue  smoke  ;  and 
also  upon  the  cattle  grazing  on  a  thousand  hills.     Presently 


IM 


110 


A    roi'll  TO  Tin:   KIVKR  SA(;rKXAY 


I 


!« 


I    licMrd    tlh'    ratlliiii:   wheels  oC  the   stiiire-eoaeli, — one   m(»n; 


look 


o\  ( 


r  llie  eliariiiiii'J:  valh.'V, — ami  I  was  in  iiiv  seat  hoidc 


the  coaeliiiiaii. 

Ill  view  of  tho  forci^oinir  and  forlli('(»niin<(  facts,  I  cannot 
but  conchidc,  tliat  I  am  a  most  lucky  fellow.  .My  ride  iVoiu 
Fraiiconia  to  liittleloii  was  attended  with  this  interestinu-  cir- 


iirc 


eiimstanco.  A  very  prettv  yoiiiiii'  lady,  who  was  in  the  st 
found  it  neccssai'V  to  (dianiro  Iut  seat  to  llu;  outside  on  ac- 
ci)uiil  of  the  confinement  within.  Of  ccjurse,  I  welcomed 
hc;r  to  my  side  with  unalloyed  pleasure.  'J'he  scenery  was 
fine,  hut  what  does  my  reader  suj)pos(;  1  cared  for  that,  as 
I  sal  there  talkini:' in  a  most  elo([ueiit  strain  to  my  comi):iiiion, 
with  my  rinht  arm  around  her  waist  to  keep  her  from  fallin<r.' 
That  conduct  of  mine  may  apjx'ar  "  shockiuLi"  to  those  who 
hav(!  "  never  travelh'd,''  hut  it  was  not  only  an  act  of  j)olile- 
ness,  hut  of  absolute  necessity.  rSeither,  as  my  patient's 
smile  told  mc,  "  was  it  bad  U)  take.''  And  iiow  deliuluful 
it  was  to  have  her  elini^  to  mo,  and  hear  the  Ixniting"  of  her 
heart,  as  the  driver  swuiiir  his  whip  and  ran  his  horses  down 
the  hills!  Animal  Mai«netism  is,  indeed,  a  great  invention — 
and  I  am  a  believer  in  it  so  far  as  the  touch  of  a  beautiful 
woman  is  concerned. 

Away,  away — thoufrhts  of  the  human  world  I  for  I  am  en- 
tering into  the  heart  of  the  AVhite  Mountains.  Ah  mo\  how  can 
I  describe  these  glorious  hierarcdis  of  New  England  !  How 
solemnly  do  they  raise  their  rugged  peaks  to  Heaven!  Now, 
in  token  of  their  royalty,  crowned  with  a  diadem  of  clouds; 
and  now  with  every  one  of  their  clilfs  gleaming  in  the  sun- 
light like  the  pictures  of  a  dream!  For  ages  have  they  held 
communion  with  the  mysteries  of  the  midnight  sky.  The 
earliest  beams  of  the  morning  have  batlied  them  in  livinnr 
light,  and  theirs,  too,  have  been  tlie  kisses  of  departing  day. 
Man  and  his  empires  have  arisen  and  decayed  ;  but  they  have 
remained  unchanged,  a  perpetual  mockery.     Upon  their  sum- 


Tin:    W  IIITK  MOINTAINS. 


11 


I 
? 


mils  'I'iiiic  li;is   iic\(T  cliiimcd  (loiiiiiiion, 


'J' 


life,  ;is   o!    old 


(Iocs  ilic  (Mu'.c  t('-ic!i  licr  Itrood  to  ll\  ,  :iii(l  ilicrc  does  ihc  w  iUl 


)r;ir  prowi  iit'ti  r  \\\<  [Htv 


'I'i 


ici'c  do  llir  wiitcrlal 


<ldl  1 


(■;il) 


:uid  >li(illl  on  their  \\;i\    to  the  dells   l)elo\\  ,  even  ;is  when  tlic 


tired    lii(!i;in    Imiiter,  ><»ine    hunt 


ired 


:iLi'es  nnonc.  Itent  hini  to 


i[n;iir  the   litjuid   element,      'i'here,  still,  does    the   rank  Lirass 
rustle    in    the    hrcc/.e,  and    the    pine    and    cedar    and  hendork 


take  part  in  the  hou  linn-  ot'  the  uale 


I 


[)on  man  alone  1  ills 


Ih 


the  heavy  curse  ol'  lime;    .Nature  has  never  sinned,  tiierclbrc 
is  her  Lrlorv  immortal. 


A 


s    IS    we 


known,   the 


hiul 


lest   ol"  these   mountains    was 


christeiu'd  at'ler  our  heloved  Washiniiloii,  and  with  it, 


as  willi 


him,    are    associated    tli 


e    names   ol    .lellerxui 


Mad 


ison    aiu 


Adams.  Its  lieiolit  is  <;ii(|  to  ije  six  thousand  and  eiiiht  huii- 
dretl  le(  t  al)0ve  the  sea.  hut  owiiiL""  lo  its  situation  in  the  crn- 
frc  ot"  a  brotherhood  ol  hills,  ii  does  mjt  dppiar  to  he  so  oraiid 
ail  ohjecl  as  South  I'eak  .Mountain  amoii'i  the  ( 'at>kills.  Its 
summit,  like  most  oi'  its  comjianions,  is  destitute  ol'  veuicla- 
tioii,  and  tlK.'rel'ore  more  desolatt'  and  monotonous.  It  is 
somewhat  ol"  an  undertakiuii-  to  ascend  Mount  W  ashinuloii, 
tlioui,di  the  trip  is  perl'ormed  on  liorsehatdv ;  hut  if  the  wea- 
tlier  is  (dear,  the  traveller  will  he  well  repaid  ("or  his  labor. 
The  paint(!r  will  i^e  j)lea>ed  w  ith  the  views  he  nuiv  ('(immand 
ill  asceiuliiii;'  the  route  from  Crawford's,  which  abounds  in 
tiie  wildest  and  most  diversilled  charms  of  mountain  scenery. 
But  the  prospect  from  the  snminil  of  Washington  will  mostly 
excite  tlie  soul  of  the  [)0(,'t.  .Not  so  miudi  on  account  of 
what  he  will  behold,  but  for  the  brcdllih-^s  fcvlhi'j;  whi(di  will 
make  iiim  deem  himself  for  a  moment  lo  be  an  aiiiicl  or  a 
tiod.  .Viid  there,  more  than  ever,  if  lu^  is  a  (,'hristian,  will 
he  desire  to  be  alone,  so  as  to  autitdpale  tlie  bliss  of  Heaven 
by  a  holy  communication  with  the  Invisible. 

I  spent  a  night  upon   this  mountain,  and   my  first   view  of 
the  prospect  \vas  at  break  of  day,  when,  as  Millon  says, 


I! 


^1 


112 


A  TOi'R  TO  Tin:  iu\  rii  sAra'EXAY. 


i\(l\;iiii'ii)'i,  b(j\\'(l  tlic  carlli  witli  orinit,  [iciiiis," 


riiKl 


"  Wiilccd  liy  till'  cilvliiiLT  lioiir-;  with  rri^y  lirtuil 
riiliiin'ril  ihc  •j.;iir<  df  liijlit,"" 

or  wJicii,  in  tilt?  liuiLniage  oC  Sliakspcuro, 

"'J'lic  '-;r;i\-('yi'il  iii'irii  Miiih'il  mi  the  iVi  iwniiiLr  imliIiI, 
Clii'ckL'riii.u  tlic  (.'uslrni  cluiicl.--  with  .-Irciik.-  nt'   li-hi." 

AV'oiulcrrullv  vasi  and  strangely  indistinct  and  drcaniv  wn> 
llic  SL'cnc  spread  out  on  cvcrv  side,  'i'o  tlu!  west  lay  the 
super!)  ( 'onnecticut,  with  its  I'ertile  valley  reposini;  in  the 
i^looni  ol"  niaht,  wliilo  to  tlie  east,  the  occ^an-honnded  pros- 
pect, just  l)urslin{r  into  the  life  of  lijrht,  was  i'ainlly  relieved 
by  \VinnipiseoL''(.'(!  and  Sebauo  lakes,  and  like  ro(d<ets  alonjr 
tlic  earth,  wandered  away  the  Merrimack,  the  Saco  and  the 
Androsconsxin,  to  then"  ocean  honns — llu;  whole  IbrniinL''  an 
€])ic  /((ii(l'Sr(fpc,  such  as  we  seldom  hehold  e\cej)tiiiir  in  our 
sleep.  Heavens!  with  what  cx(juisite  (.leliuht  did  1  ufaze 
U])on  the  scene,  as  in  the  eyes  of  truth  and  lancy  it  exjiandcd 
belbre  my  mind.  Yonder,  in  on(3  of  a  hundred  villaues,  a 
vounu"  wile,  with  her  rirst-I)orn  child  at  her  side,  was  in  the 
midst  oi'  her  morning-  dream  :  and  there,  the  pilurini  of  four- 
score y(>ars  was  lyinij  on  his  cou(di  in  a  iltful  slumber,  as 
the  ])ains  of  a^c  creeped  throuufh  his  frame.  'I'here,  on  the 
Atlantic  shore,  the  li.>^herman  in  tlie  shelterinji'  hay,  hoisted 
antdior  and  spread  his  sail  for  the  S(>a ; — and  there  the  life- 
star  of  the  liiihth()us(!  was  extiniruishcd,  again  at  its  stated 
tin;e  to  appear  with  increased  brilliancy.  In  reality,  there 
"Was  an  ocean  of  mountains  all  around  ine;  but  in  the  dim 
light  of  the  hour,  aiul  as  I  looked  down  upon  them,  it 
seemed  to  me  that  1  stood  in  the  centre  ol'  a  plain,  boundless 
as  the  universe  ;  and  though  I  could  not  see  them,  I  felt  tiiat 
I  was  in  a  region  of  spirits,  and  that  the  sunnnit  of  the  mount 


r 


S 


.»• 


I 


■.# 


^1^ 


THE  NOTCH  VALLEY. 


113 


\^ 


was  lioly  ffrouiul.  lint  tho  morniiiir  was  advanciiiir,  ttic 
risiiiir  mists  obscured  tny  vision,  and,  as  I  did  not  wish  to 
liavc  tliat  day-break  picture  dissipated  iVoni  mv  mind,  I 
mounted  my  I'ailliful  horse,  and  wiili  a  solemn  awe  at  heart 
descen(h'(l  the  mountain. 

The  ride  from  the  Notch  House,  kept  bv  the  ceh'lirated 
hunter  named  Crawford,  tlirouuh  the  \olch  \  ahey  some 
•twelve  miles  loni^,  is  mairnilicent.  First  is  tho  (Jap  itself,  only 
soiue  twenty  feet  in  width,  u\n\  overhunir  with  iafrned  rocks 
of  wondrous  hei<rht:  and  then  the  tiin'  sjirinsi,  alive  with 
trout,  which  ijives  birth  to  the  untamed  Saco.  A  few  more 
downward  steps,  and  you  are  in  full  view  of  a  blutf,  whose 
storm-scathed  brow  seems  to  prop  tin;  very  heavens, — its 
gray  sliadows  stronirly  contrastinnf  with  the  de(>p  blue  skv. 
A  little  furdier  on,  and  you  lind  yourself  in  an  anii)hilheatre 
of  mountains,  whose  summits  and  sides  are  barren  and  deso- 
late, where  the  storms  of  a  thousand  years  hav(>  exhausted  their 
fury.  Downward  still  and  further  on,  :uid  you  come  to  the 
memorable  Wilev  coltaire,  whose  iidiabitauts  perished  ii,  the 
avalanche  or  slide  of  182().  The  storm  had  been  unceasino- 
for  some  davs  upon  the  surroundini!"  country,  ami  llie  dwell- 
ers of  the  cottaL'^e  were  startled  at  midniLiht  by  the  i'alliiiir 
earth.  They  lied — and  were  burii^l  in  an  instant,  and  up 
to  the  present   time,  only  one  of  tin;  seven   bodies   has   ever 

been  found.     As  it  then  stood,  the  dwellinir  still  stands 

a  monument  of  mysterious  escapi;,  as  well  as  of  tlie  incom- 
prehensible decrees  of  Providence.  'J'he  Saco  river,  whicfi 
runs  through  the  valley,  was  lifted  from  its  ori<rinal  bed,  and 
forced  into  a  new  channel.  'I'he  whole  [)lace,  which  but  a 
slujrt  time  bel'ore  was  a  "  oeautii'ul  and  verdant  openinir 
amid  the  surrounding  rudeness  and  deep  shadow,  is  now  like 
a  stretch  of  desolate  sea-shore  after  a  tempest, — full  of  wrecks, 
buried  in  sand  and  rocks,  crushed  and  g-round  to  atoms." 

After  witnessing  so  much  of  the  grand  and  gloomy,  1  was 
8 


?ft"fv'.i-,»S>.«^.- 


114 


A  TOUR  TO  THE   RIVER  SAOUKNAY. 


^l;i(l  to  retrace  my  course  to  a  loss  dreary  country  My  last 
view  (tf  -Mount  Washinjriou  and  its  lordly  companions  was 
the  most  hc.anlifdl.  The  sun  was  near  liis  sotlin<r,  and  the 
whok;  sky  was  covered  with  a  glow  ol"  richest  yellow  and 
<;rimson,  while  to  the  eastward  hung  two  immense  copper- 
.•-olored  clouds  just  touching  the  ouUiue  of  the  mouiilains; 
and  through  the  hazy  atmosphere,  the  mountains  themselves 
looked  (doud-like,  hut  with  more  ol"  the  hriohi  hlue  of  heaven 
n})on  tiiem.  In  die  extensive  middle  distance  laded  away 
wood-crowned  hills;  and  in  the  foreground  reposed  an  exqui- 
site little  larm,  with  the  hushandman's  liapj)y  abode,  almost 
hidden  by  grou})s  of  elms  ;  and  the  simple  figures,  only  a 
lew  paces  ofl',  of  a  little  girl  sitting  on  a  stone,  with  a  bunch 
of  summer  flowers  in  her  hand,  and  a  basket  of  berries 
and  a  dog  at  Jier  side.  One  more  yearning  gaze  upon  the 
dear  old  mountains,  and  1  resumed  my  pilgrimage  towards  the 
north. 


last 


CWW'VWM    X 


y\i  iiiiii'iii. 


I 


Moilhidl.   JlUK'. 

With  some  tliinir^^  in  Moiilrcal  1  !ia\('  been  pleased,  hut 
wilii  others  a  irootl  (h'al  (hssaiislied.  The  appeaianee  wliich 
it  piH'seiils  iVoiu  every  j)()iiil  of  \iew  is  iiiipo-ino  jn  ihi!  ex- 
treme. Its  iiimieroiis  ehureli  towei's  and  e\teiisi\e  hhx'ks 
ol  stores,  its  extensive  shippiiin-  and  nohie  stone  wharves, 
conihine  to  u'ive  one  an  iih-a  ol'  ureat  wi'ahh  and  hheraUly. 
On  first  ridiua-  to  my  lioteTl  was  strurk  with  the  (leaidiness 
ol  its  streets,  and,  on  heinsx  shown  to  mv  room,  I  was  eon- 
vineed  that  the  hotel  itself  ( I  )onenana"s;  was  of  tlu'  first 
water.  'I'he  eity  ahounds  in  pidilie  huiidiiiiis,  which  arc 
usually  built  of  limestone,  and  it  extends  alonu'  the  I'iver  St. 
Lawreneo  al<oul  three  miles.  The  streets,  in  the  older  parts 
of  the  town,  are  as  pictures(|ne  and  narrow  as  those  of  the 
mor(>  aiK'ii  lit  cities  of  the  Old  World,  hut  in  the  modern  por- 
tions they  are  (piile  regular  ami  eomfortable.  'J'he  princi- 
pal street  is  y<)irr  iJatiic,  which  always  presents,  on  a  plea- 
sant ilay,  a  i;ay,  and  eleiiant  appearance. 

Geiiera.lly  speaking",  its  ehiirehes  are  below  niedioerity, 
but  it  has  one  arcdiitiH'tural  lion  worth  menlioniuix — the 
Catholic  cathedral.  It  faces  a  st[uare  called  Place  (fJirmes, 
and  presents  an  imposinir  appearance.     It  is  built  of  stone, 


no 


A  TOUR  TO  THE  RIVER  SAGUENAY. 


r  I 


P 


and  said  to  be  after  tho  Norman-Cifotliic  order  of  arcliitectiirc: 
but  I  .should  think  it  a  mixture  of  a  dozen  dis-orchrs.  Its 
extreme  lenijjtli  is  225  feet,  breadth  llJf),  and  its  }ieii^ht72  feet. 
Il  ;dso  has  two  towers,  wliicli  measure  220  feet  to  their  sum- 
mit. 'J'he  windows  in  these  towers  are  closed  with  coarse 
boards,  and  yet  it  cost  $  100,000.  The  jrround  floor  is  covered 
with  pews  capable  of  seating  8000  people,  while  the  aisles 
and  (rjilleries  mi<rht  hold  2000  more.  The  jralleries  are  sup- 
ported by  ivoodin  ])illars,  which  reminded  me  of  a  New  York, 
barber's  sign.  The  interior  has  a  naked  and  doleful  appear- 
ance ;  the  large  window  above  the  altar  is  wretchedly  painted  : 
the  altar  itself  is  loaded  with  gew-gaws;  and  of  die  many 
paintings  which  meet  you  in  every  direction  there  is  not  one 
ibr  which  I  would  pay  ten  dollars.  The  organ  resembles  a 
bird-house,  and  the  music  perpetrated  there  every  day  in  the 
year  would  jar  upon  the  ear  of  even  an  American  Indian. 
And  when  it  is  remembered  that  this  church  was  built  by 
one  of  the  wealthiest  corporations  on  the  (Continent,  it  is  utter- 
ly impossible  to  entertain  a  feeling  of  charity  towards  the 
founders  thereof. 

The  population  of  Montreal  is  now  estimated  at  forty 
thousand,  one-half  of  w'hom  are  Koman  Catholics,  one 
fourUi  Protestants,  and  the  remainder  nothing  in  particular. 
By  this  statement  it  will  be  readily  seen  that  the  establish- 
ments of  the  Catholics  must  be  the  most  abundant.  Nun- 
neries are  consequenUy  quite  numerous,  some  of  them  well 
endowed,  and,  to  those  who  have  a  passion  for  such  affairs, 
must  be  exceedingly  interesting. 

But  1  wish  to  mention  one  or  two  additional  specimens  of 
architecture.  The  market  of  Montreal  is  built  of  stone,  located 
near  the  river,  and  remarkably  s])acious  and  convenient  in  all 
its  arrangements.  It  eclipses  anything  of  the  kind  that  we  can 
boast  of  il.  the  States.  The  only  monument  of  any  note  in  the 
city  is  a  Doriccolumn,  surmounted  with  a  statue,  and  erected 


MONTREAL. 


117 


111  iioiior  of  Lord  Nolsoii.  'Vhv  ciiUre  coluniii  is  seventy  iect 
higli,  and  «rives  an  air  of  elegance  to  that  portion  of  Notre 
Dame  where  it  stands.  On  the  four  siihvs  of  tlie  pedestal  are 
pictorial  representations,  in  alto  relievo,  representing  Nelson 
in  some  of  his  memorable  battles.  It  was  erected  by  the 
British  inhabitants  of  Montreal  at  a  cost  of  near  six  thousand 
dollars. 

One  of  the  most  striking  peculiarities  of  tiiis  city  is 
the  fact  that  everybody  has  to  live,  walk  and  sleep  at  the 
point  of  a  bayonet.  Military  ([uarters  are  stationeil  in  va- 
rious i)ortions  of  the  city,  and  soldiers  meet  you  at  every 
corner,  marching  to  and  fro,  invariably  pulled  up  with  igno- 
rance and  vanity.  The  last  woman,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  who  has 
become  an  outcast  from  society,  attributes  her  misforluut!  to 
a  soldiiT ;  the  olllcers,  however,  who  rub;  these  militarv  slaves, 
are,  g(Mierally,  well  eilucaled  and  agreealile  geiillcuu'ii.  lUit 
these  are  not  without  their  faults,  and,  if  1  miirht  be  allowed 
the  exi)ression,  I  would  add,  that  they  appear  suprenu'lv  ridi- 
culous whenever  they  march  into  a  church,  on  llu;  Subbalh, 
with  their  swords  dangling  between  their  lei^s,  and  looking 
down  upon  the  praying  congregation  in  all  the  '*  pomj)  and 
circumstance  of  war." 

The  people  whom  you  meet  in  the  streets  of  Montreal 
seem  to  come  from  almost  everv  natiijn  in  the  world.  Now 
it  may  be  the  immensely  ])ompous  I'lmxlishman,  who  repre- 
sents some  wilderness  district  in  Parliament;  and  now  it 
may  be  the  cunniiiir  8cotchm;m,  or  ;i  half-famisliL'd  Irishman. 
Sometimes  it  is  the  speculating  American,  or  the  humble  and 
industrious  Jew  ;  the  gay  and  j)olite  Habitan,  ov  a  irroup  of 
wanderniL'"  Indians  from  the  far  north.  'J'he  better  class  of 
Montreal  people  (so  called  by  a  fashionable  world),  are  the 
British  settlers,  or,  rather,  the  English  population.  Generally 
speaking,  they  are  highly  intelligent,  and  somewhat  arbitrary 
in  expressing  their  opinions  ;  but  they  entertain  hospitable 


118 


A  TOT'R  TO  THE  RIVER  SAOUENAY. 


foeliiii^s  towards  stranir<'rs.  They  l)o:ist  of  their  mother 
country,  as  if  her  gh)ry  and  power  were  omnipotent;  and  an 
occasional  individual  may  l)C  ibund  wiio  will  not  scruple  to 
insult  an  American  if  he  happens  to  defend  his  own.  In 
religion,  they  ar(j  generally  ]']piscopalians  ;  they  hate  the 
Habitan,  look  with  contem])t  upon  the  poor  Irish,  and  address 
their  brethren  of  Scodand  with  a  patronizintr  air.  They  drink 
immense  (quantities  of  wine,  and  those  who  happen  to  be  the 
illiterate  members  of  the  Provincial  Parliament,  think  them- 
selves the  greatest  people  on  earth. 

The  island  upon  which  Montreal  is  located,  is  seventy 
miles  in  circumference,  and  was  once  (if  not  now),  the  pro- 
perty of  an  order  of  Catholic  priesthood.  In  the  rear  of  the 
city  rises  a  noble  hill,  called  Mount  l^oval,  from  which  it 
derives  its  name.  The  hill  itself  is  thickly  wooded;  but  the 
surrounding  country  is  exceedingly  fertile,  and  studded  with 
elegant  country-seats,  and  the  rural  abodes  of  the  peasantry. 
A  ride  around  the  Mount,  on  a  pleasant  day,  is  one  of  the 
most  delightful  imaginable,  commanding  a  view  of  Montreal 
and  the  St.  Lawrence  valley  which  is  grand  beyond  compare. 

To  appreciate  the  uni(}ue  i'eatures  of  Montreal,  it  is  neces- 
sary that  you  should  be  there  on  the  Sabbath,  the  gala-day 
of  the  Catholics.  Then  it  is  that  the  peasantry  flock  into  the 
city  from  all  directions,  and,  when  they  are  pouring  into  the 
huge  cathedral  by  thousands,  dressed  in  a  thousand  fantastic 
fashions,  cracking  their  jokes,  and  laughing  as  they  move 
along,  the  entire  scene  is  apt  to  lill  one  with  peculiar  feelings. 
It  icdb-  beautiful  to  look  at ;  but  the  thought  struck  me  that  I 
should  hate  to  live  in  the  shadow  of  that  cathedral  forever. 
But  if  vou  chance  to  take  a  walk  in  the  suburbs,  on  a  Sab- 
bath  afternoon,  you  will  notice  much  that  cannot  but  afford 
you  real  satisfaction.  You  will  find  almost  every  cottage  a 
fit  subject  for  a  picture  ;  and  the  flocks  of  neatly-dressed, 
happy,  and  polite  children  playing  along  the  roads,  together 


MONTREAL 


119 


til   frcauent  tri'oups  ot  ><)l'oi    nun,  .uniu  i 


the  oc 

leuniniT  <Hit  of  a  window,— a 


these  thinL^s,  I  say,  coiistilutc 

;-:T;'::;:.-:;;:;r;;::::;n'':;.::'::t 


tune  to 


visa  it -...un,' .m\  <.'e  ,Morc  ,.r  it.  Hi^lHMl  .orir.y. 


j 


;:     i 


C  H  A  P  T  i:  R    X 1 


Quebec. 


QkcOic,  June. 

I  CAME  from  Montreal  to  this  city  in  the  day  time,  and, 
consequently,  had  an  opportunity  of  examininir  this  portion 
of  the  St.  Lawrence.  The  river  opposite  Montreal  runs  at 
the  rate  of  six  miles  per  hour,  and  is  two  mil(;s  wide;  it  pre- 
serves this  hreadth  for  about  sixty  miles,  and  then  expands 
into  the  beautiful  and  cmerald-lookiui^  lake  of  St.  Peter, 
after  which  it  varies  from  one  to  five  in  width  until  it  reaches 
Quebec,  which  is  distant  from  Montreal  one  hundred  and 
eighty  miles.  Above  St.  Peter  the  shores  vary  from  live  to 
fifteen  feet  in  height,  but  below  the  lake  they  gradually 
become  more  elevated  until  they  measure  some  three  hundred 
feet  in  the  vicinity  of  Quebec.  The  country  between  the 
two  Canadian  cities  is  well  cultivated,  and  on  either  side  may 
be  seen  a  continued  succession  of  rural  cottages. 

Our  steamer  approached  Quebec  at  the  sunset  hour,  and 
I  must  say  that  I  have  never  witnessed  a  more  superb  pros- 
pect than  was  presented  by  the  lofty  citadel  city,  the  contract- 
ed St.  Lawrence,  the  opposite  headland  called  Point  Levi,  and 
the  far  distant  land  which  I  knew  to  be  Cape  Tourment.  A 
slid'  breeze  was  blowing  at  the  lime,  and  some  twenty  ships 
were  sailing  to  and  fro,  while  wc  had  to  make  our  way  into  port 


I 


it     i 


QUEBEC. 


121 


L 


by  wiiuliiiir  between  and  arountl  some  tlu-ee  hunilrctl  ships 
wliich  were  at  anclior. 

I  have  seen  much  in  tliis  goodly  eity  which  has  made  a 
deep  impression  on  my  mind.  Tlie  })ron>ontory  called  Cape 
Diamond  upon  which  it  stands,  is  formed  by  the  junction  oi' 
the  St.  Charles  and  Si.  Lawrence  rivers,  and  rises  to  the 
heisiht  of  three  hundred  and  fifty  feet  above  the  water.  The 
city  is  built  from  the  water's  edjirc  alonir  ibe  base  of  the  clifl\ 
and  iVom  thence,  in  a  circuitous  manner,  ascends  to  the  very 
border  of  the  citadel  and  ramparts.  There  is  but  one  street 
leadiii((  from  the  lower  to  the  upper  town,  and  that  is  narrow 
and  very  steep,  and  the  trateway  is  defended  by  a  number  of 
larjre  cannon.  The  city  is  remarkably  irre<,adar,  and,  as 
many  of  the  buildinjrs  are  ipiite  ancient,  its  appearance  is  pic- 
turcsijuc  and  romantic.  The  fortifications  cover  an  area  of 
forty  acres,  and  beneath  them  are  many  spacious  and  gloomy 
vaults  for  the  recc])tion  of  ammunition  and  stores  duriiiir  a 
time  of  war. — Recedinir  into  the  interior,  I'roin  the  verv"  In'ow 
of  the  fortress,  are  the  plains  of  Abraham,  whicli  are  covered 
with  a  rich  iireen  sod,  and  planted  with  unnumbered  cannon. 
Their  historical  associations  are  numerous,  and,  as  they  would 
fill  a  chapter  in  themselves,  I  will  refrain  I'rom  dwelling  upon 
them,  at  this  time. 

The  religious  establishments  of  Quebec  are  quite  numerous, 
and  belong  mostly  to  the  liomaii  Catholics  :  like  those  of 
Montreal,  they  are  cpiite  ancient  and  well  endowed  ;  but  they 
did  not  interest  me,  and  I  am  sure  my  description  of  them 
would  not  interest  my  reader.  As  a  matter  ol'  course,  I 
visited  the  French  Cathedral.  It  seems  to  be  as  old  as  the 
liills,  and  yet  all  the  windows  of  the  principal  tower  are 
roughly  boarded  up.  On  entering  the  edifice,  which  is  crowd- 
ed w^ith  gilded  ornaments,  1  could  not  iix  my  eye  upon  a 
single  object  which  suggested  the  idea  of  richness.  'I'he 
sculpture,  the  paintings,  and  even  the  gilding,  arc  all  withoiU 


i 


i 


122 


A  TOUR  TO  THE  RIVER  SAOirENAY. 


merit ;  :iri(I  what  iriTiilly  added  to  my  distrust  was,  that  I 
coidd  notohtaiu  a  civil  answer  from  a  siiiLdeone  of  tlic  maiiv 
boorisli  men  and  hoys  wlio  were  fussiniif  al)ont  the  cdiurcdi. 
III  the  front  of  an  extensive;  promenade,  just  below  the 
citadel,  stands  the  nionuinent  creeted  to  tin;  nieniory  of  Alont- 
ealin  and  Wolfe.  'IMie  oentleinan  who  conlrihuted  the  larircst 
sum  lor  its  erection  was  Lord  Dalhousie.  It  is  a  handsome 
obelisk,  and  was  desijriied  by  a  military  gentleman  named 
Young.  The  prhivlpal  inscription  on  the  column  is  charac- 
teristic of  the  English  nation,  and  is  >vhat  a  shrewd  Yankee 
would  call  "  a  pufT  of  Dalhousie" — even  thougii  it  be 
chiselled  in  Latin.  The  annoying  ell'ect  of  this  inscription, 
however,  is  counteracted  by  another,  which  is  also  in  Latin, 
and  very  beautiful,  tt  was  composed  by  J.  C.  Fisher,  Esq., 
founder  of  the  Quebec  Gazette,  and  is  as  follows  : 

"Military  vlmic  litivo  ilicm  a  (.unniiun  death, 
HirtDi'V'  a  (•(iiiimou  liimc, 
Posterity  a  coinindii  iiioniimcnt.'' 

The  Golden  dog  is  another  curiosity  which  will  attract  the 
attention  of  the  visitor  to  Quebec.  It  is  the  figure  of  a  dog, 
rudely  sculptured  in  relievo,  and  richly  gilded,  which  stands 
above  the  entrance  of  an  ancient  house,  wdiich  was  built  by 
M.  Phillibert,  a  merchant  of  this  city,  in  the  time  of  M. 
Bigot,  the  last  intendant  under  the  French  government. 
Connected  with  it  is  the  following  curious  story,  which  I 
copy  from  an  old  record  :  — 

"  M.  Phillibert  and  the  intendant  were  on  bad  terms,  but, 
under  the  system  then  existing,  the  merchant  knew  that  it 
was  in  vain  for  him  to  seek  redress  in  the  colony,  and  deter- 
mining at  some  future  period  to  prefer  his  complaint  in 
France,  he  contented  himself  with  placing  the  figure  of  a 
sleeping  dog,  in  front  of  his  house,  with  the  following  lines 
beneath  it,  in  allusion  to  his  situation  with  his  powerful 
enemy : 


if. 


QIFUF.f. 

,h'  -iii-i  nil  I'liifii  <  {iii  ii'iiLii'  I  ns, 
I', 11  li-  nihL:i;iiit   jr  pii'hil-.  iiiun  ri'|)M-. — 
I   11  I'TiiH'  \ii'tiili;i  <{iii  ti'ot  |i;i.>  \rim 
(^iif  J'-  iii<  >iili-ii  (jiii   III  ;iiii:i    III!  inhi." 


123 


u  'I'l 


'I'liis  rillciforiciil  laii!rii;iu"r  was.  liowover,  \oa  [)lniii  for 
Afons.  UiL^ot  If)  inisiindcrslaiKl  it.  A  man  so  pouciiul  easily 
found  ail  iiistniiiKMit  to  a\('iiL''<'  llio  insult,  and  \I.  IMiillihert 
reccivtnl,  as  the  reward  of  his  verso,  the  sword  of  an  ollieer 
of  the  L>[arri.son  throui:h  his  hatdv,  when  dese(MidinL!'  the  Tiower 
Town  Hill.  'IMie  murderer  was  permitted  to  leave  the  coUjtiy 
unmolested,  and  was  transferred  to  a  reiriment  stationed  in  the 
l^ast  Indies.  'J'hitlier  lie  was  j)ursued  hy  a  hrotherof  the  de- 
ceased, who  had  tlrst  soiiaht  him  in  Canada,  when  he  arrived 
here  to  s<!ttle  l\is  hrothcr's  allairs.  The  parties,  it  is  rcdated, 
met  in  the  puhlic  street  of  Pondieherry,  drew  their  swords, 
and,  after  a  severe  eonlliet,  the  assassin  met  a  more  honora- 
ble fate  than  his  crime  deserved,  and  died  hy  the  hand  of  liis 
anta<ronist." 

I  know  not  that  there  are  any  other  curiosities  in  Qiiebec 
really  worth  mentionina,  and  I  willinirly  turn  to  its  natural 
at'raetions.  The  fortress  itself  is  undoidjtcdly  one  of,  if  not 
the  most  formidable  on  the  continent;  but  I  fell  in  love  with 
it  on  account  of  its  observatory  features.  To  ramble  over 
its  commanding-  ramparts,  without  knowing,  or  carinj^  to  know 
a  solitary  individual,  has  been  to  me  an  agreeable  and  nnique 
source  of  entertainment.  At  one  time  I  leaned  upon  the  ba- 
lustrade, and  looked  down  upon  '.he  Lower  Town,  It  was 
near  the  hour  of  noon.  Horses  and  carriages,  men,  wotnen 
and  children,  were  hurrying-  through  the  narrow  streets,  and 
ships  w(>re  in  the  docks  discharging  their  cargoes.  I  looked 
down  upon  all  these  things  at  a  single  glance,  and  yet  the 
only  noise  I  heard  was  a  hum  of  business.  Even  the  loud 
clear  shout  of  the  sailor,  as  he  tugged  away  at  the  mast-head 
of  his  ship,  could  hardly  be  heard  stealing  upward  on  the 


124 


A  TOUR  TO  THE  RIVER  SAGTENAY. 


' 


air.  Doves  wore  flying  about,  high  above  the  roofs  ;  hut  ihuy 
were  so  liir  below  my  j)oiiit  of  vision,  tliat  1  could  not  hear 
the  heatinu;  of  their  \viii<rs. 

JJiit  the  linest  prospcet  that  I  have  enjoyed  in  this  city  was 
from  the  summit  of  the  ►Sii^nal  House,  whieh  looms  al)Ove 
the  citadel.  1  visited  this  spot  just  as  the  sun  was  setting, 
and  everytiiing  was  enveloped  in  a  golden  atmosphere.  Be- 
neath me  lay  the  city,  gradually  lulling  itself  to  repose;  on 
the  west,  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  faded  away  the  valley 
of  the  upper  St.  Lawrence;  towards  the  north,  winding  its 
way  between  high  and  well-cultivated  hills,  was  the  river  8t. 
Charles;  towards  the  eastward,  rolling  onwards,  in  its  sub- 
limity like  an  ocean,  across  the  continent,  was  the  Hood  of  the 
lower  St.  Lawrence,  whitened  by  more  than  a  hundred  sails; 
and  towards  the  south  reposed  a  picturesc^ue  country  of  hills 
and  dales,  beyond  which  I  could  just  discern  some  of  the 
mountain  peaks  of  my  own  dear  "  Father  Land."  Strange  and 
beautiful  beyond  compare  was  the  entire  panorama,  and  how 
was  its  inlluence  upon  me  deepened,  as  a  strain  of  martial 
music  broke  upon  the  silent  air,  and  then  melted  into  my 
very  heart!  I  knew  not  whence  it  came,  or  who  were  the 
musicians,  but  1  ''blessed  them  unaware,"  and  as  my  vision 
again  wandered  over  the  far-olf  hills,  I  was  quite  happy. 

The  population  of  Quebec  is  estimated  at  thirty  thousand, 
and  the  variety  is  as  great  as  in  Montreal.  A  large  propor- 
tion of  the  people  whom  you  see  parading  the  streets  are 
soldiers,  and  chief  among  them  I  would  mention  the  Scotch 
Highlanders,  who  are  a  noble  set  of  men,  and  dress  in  hand- 
some style. 

Quebec,  upon  the  whole,  is  a  remarkable  place,  and  well 
worth  visiting.  The  environs  of  the  city  are  also  interesting; 
and  a  ride  to  the  Falls  of  Montmorency,  seven  miles  down 
the  river,  and  back  igain  by  an  interior  road.  Mill  abundantly 
repay  the  tourist  for  all  the  trouble  and  expense  to  which  he 
may  be  subjected. 


s^  s^ 


riTAPTEH  vrr. 


A  «:iil  (Imuii  tlic  St.  l/uvronce — Sword-li-h  rhii^iiiL;  a  \rtiai(' 


lU 


Tadoimtr,  Jinu. 

I  HAVE  not  visited  Can:i(]:i  for  the  purpo.sc  of  cxarniniiiii 
her  cities,  aiul  stiulying  the  character  of  her  peoph%  but  solely 
with  a  view  of  hunting'  up  some  new  scenery,  and  liavinnr  a 
little  5;port  in  the  way  of  salmon  fishiiiir.  1  am  writing  this' 
chapter  at  the  mouth  of  probably  the  most  remarkable  river 
in  North  America.  Hut  before  enterinir  upon  a  description 
of  my  sojourn  here,  it  is  meet,  I  ween,  that  [  should  give 
you  an  account  of  my  journey  down  the  St.  Lawrence. 

On  reaching  Quebec,  1  was  informed  that  there  was  no  re- 
gular mode  of  conveyance  down  the  great  river,  and  that  I 
should  liave  to  take  passage  in  a  transient  ship  or  schooner, 
M-hich  would  land  me  at  my  desired  haven.  This  intelli- 
gence had  a  tendency  to  dampen  my  spirits,  and  I  had  to 
content  myself  with  sauntering  al)out  the  citadel  city.  Among 
the  places  I  visited  was  the  tisli  market,  where  it  was  my 
good  fortune  to  find  a  small  smack  which  had  brought  a  load 
of  fresh  salmon  to  market,  and  was  on  the  point  of  return- 
ing to  the  Saguenay  for  anoUier  cargo.  In  less  than  thirty 
minutes  after  1  saw  him,  I  had  struck  a  bargain  with  the 
skipper,  transferred  my  luggage  on  board  the  smack,  and 
was  on  my  way  to  a  region  which  was  to  me  unknown. 


120 


A  TOiJit  TO  thf;  river  .sagi:knay. 


AVc  IioisU  (1  sail  at  twelve  o'clock,  and  won'  fa^oicd  bv  a 
stifl'  westerl}^  l)reeze.  I'^verytliino-,  iii  fact,  coiinecicd  with 
tlie  vovaiic  was  heautifiilly  accidental,  and  [  had  "a  Lil'naous 
time."  In  the  jirst  place,  our  craft  was  just  the  thiuL^ — 
schoon(.'r-riirii('(l,  a  last  sailer,  and  pcM'Tectly  sale.  MMie  skip- 
per— nanu'd  liidland — was  a  warm-hearted  and  intelliir(;nt 
I'renidiman,  wh()>e  (Mitire  crew  consisted  ol'  one  hov.  'J'he 
dav  was  superb,  and  tin;  scenery  ol'  the  ri\('r  appeared  to  me 
more  Hke  the  work  of  eiiehaninunt  than  nature. 

The  appearaiu'c  of  (Quebec.  iVom  the  eastward,  is  impos- 
ing in  tilt;  extreme.  SlandiuL*'  as  it  does  upon  a  lol'ix  bhiir, 
its  massiv(;  ramparts  and  tin-covered  roofs,  domes,  and 
cupolas  suL''L'"('^^t  th(!  itlea  of  immense  jnjwer  and  opulence, 
.lust  below  the  city,  the  St.  Lawrence  spreads  out  to  the 
width  of  three  or  four  miles,  while  from  the  marii'in  of  either 
shore  fades  away  a  conliiiued  succession  of  hills,  whi(di  vary 
from  live  hundred  to  lifleeii  hundred  leel  in  hci<iht.  'J'liose 
upon  the  m)rth  shore  wvc  the  hiL''liost.  and  both  sides  of  the 
river,  for  a  distance  of  some  twenty  miles  below  the;  city, 
are  plentifully  sprinkled  w  ilh  the  v\-hitc  cottaii'es  of  the  C.'ana- 
dian  peasantry.  As  you  ])rocee(l,  however,  the  river  ^I'adually 
widens,  the  hills  u])on  the  north  shore  bet-ome  more  lofty, 
reaehiui;  the  eh^'ation  of  two  thousand  feet  ;  and,  while  you 
only  occasionally  disco\-er  a  farm  house  uj^on  their  summits, 
the  soutlun-n  hhore  continues  to  be;a*  the  apj)earauce  of  a 
settled  country,  where  the  spire  of  a  C'athoiic  churcdi  is  fre- 
quently seen  looming-  above  a  cluster  of  rural  residences.  In 
dcse(mding  the  river,  the  llrst  pictorial  leatnre  whicdi  attracts 
attention  is  the  Fall  of  Moulmorency,  pouring  the  waters  of 
a  noble  tributary  immediatelv  into  the  St.  Lawrciuce.  .lust 
below  this  fall  the  ri\cr  is  divided  by  the  island  of  Orleans, 
whi(di  measures  about  twentv  miles  in  leni»tli,  and  five  in 
breadth.  It  is  partly  covered  with  forest,  and  partly  cultivated  ; 
and,  though  the  shores  are  rather  low,  it  contains   a  number 


y 


IlEAI  TIHL  ISLANDS. 


127 


of  jioiiils  wliicli  arc  a  hiiiulrcd  ftct  Iiiiili.  Al  llic  i  astern  termi- 
nation of  this  i.-land  is  iIk;  parisli  of  St.  Lawreiii,  a  remark- 
ably liilv  Freneh  village,  whose  iuluibitanls  are  said  to  he  as 
siiiijdc  ill  their  manners,  as  they  arc  virtuous,  and  iiiiioraiit  of 
the  world  al  lar'^c.  ( )n  a  smalh'r  ishind,  wiiieh  lies  r-ome  thirty 
miles  behtv  Quebec,  and  directly  op[)osiie  a  noble  cape  called 
Tounnent.  is  located  the  (juarantine  station  I'or  the  shippinir  of 
the  river;  and  wheiil  passed  this  spot.  1  counted  no  less  than 
lortv-live  ships  at  anchor,  nearly  all  of  which  were  freii>hted 
with  foreiiiii  paupers,  who  were  then  d\  iuLi'  'd  the  siiij)  fever, 
at  the  rale  of  one  hundred  and  lit'ty  individuals  j)cr  day. 
I  miizhl  here  mention  that  the  vessels  usually  seen  on  ibis  j)art 
of  the  St.  .l/awrence  are  merchant  ships  and  briu's,  whicdi  are 
chielly  ami  extensively  emj)loyed  in  the  lumber  and  timber 
trade.  Another  island  in  this  portion  of  the  S,.  liawrence, 
which  attracts  atleiition  from  its  pci'uliar  sylvan  beauty,  is 
called  Uoose  Island,  and  owned  by  a  sisterhood  of  \iins,  who 
have  cultivated  it  extensively.  'Vhv  eastern  j)(»inoii  ol'  it  is 
covered  with  I'orest;  the  channels  on  eiilu.'r  sitle  are  not  far 
from  ten  miles  wide,  and  it  is  distant  from  Quebec  about 
iifly  miles. 

We  landed  here  at  sunset;  ami  while  m\-  coiiipanions  were 
buildin<r  a  watch-lire,  and  cookinu"  a  sup[)er  of  lish,  pork  and 
onions,  I  amused  myself  by  takinii'  sumlry  observations.  I 
found  the  vegelalion  of  the'  island  (piile  luxuriaiil,  the  common 
hard  woods  of  the  north  prevailing,  but  its  foundaiion  seemed 
to  be  composed  of  two  distinct  s|)ecies  of  slaU.'  stone.  IJoth 
varieties  were  of  the  linest  gr-ain,  and  Mhile  one  was  of  a 
rich  Iiulian  red,  the  other  was  a  dee[)  blue.  'J'his  j)orlion  of 
the  St.  Jiawrenee  is  a  good  deal  blocked  up  by  extensive 
reefs,  composed  of  these  identical  slate  stones,  and  al  one 
point  they  extend  so  nearly  across  the  river  as  to  render  ship 
navigation  extremely  dangerous.  On  subsequently  examin- 
ing the  high  hills  on  the  north  shore,  1  found  them  to  be  of 


^ 


128 


A  TOUR  TO  THE  RIVER  SAGITEXAY. 


solid  Jiranito,  veined  witli  red  marble  and  extensive  beds  of 
quartz,  and  covered  witli  a  stunted  forest  of  pine  and  hem- 
lock. IJut  this  ireoloirical  dissertation  is  keepinir  niy  pen 
from  descril)inff  a  niijht  picture  which  it  was  my  jjrivileiJ'e  to 
witness  on  this  beautiful  but  badly-named  island,  where,  for 
sundry  reasons,  we  concluded  to  spend  the  nijrht. 

Our  supper  was  ended,  and  the  skipper  had  j)ai(i  liis  last  visit 
to  the  little  craft,  and,  with  his  boy,  had  smoked  himself  to 
sleep  by  our  camp  lire.  The  sky  was  without  a  cloud,  but 
studded  with  stars,  and  the  breeze  which  kissed  my  cheek 
was  soft  and  pleasant  as  the  breath  of  one  we  dearly  love. 
I  Jiad  seated  myself  upon  a  rock,  with  my  face  turned  towards 
the  north,  when  my  :ittention  was  attracted  by  a  column  of 
lipht,  which  shot  upward  to  the  zenith  behind  the  distant 
mountains.  The  broad  expanse  of  the  St.  liawrence  was 
without  a  ripple,  and  the  mountains,  toijether  with  the  column 
of  liii;lit  and  the  unnumbered  stars,  were  distinctly  mirrored 
in  its  bosom.  While  lookinn"  upon  this  scene,  the  idea  struck 
me  that  the  moon  was  about  to  rise,  but  I  soon  saw  a  crim- 
som  jrlow  stealin<f  up  the  sky,  and  knew  that  I  was  looking 
upon  tlu;  fantastic  performances  of  the  Northern  Liiihts. 
Broad,  and  of  the  purest  white,  were  the  many  rays  which 
shot  upward  from  behind  the  mountains,  and  at  equal  dis- 
tances, between  the  horizon  and  the  zenith,  were  displayed 
four  arches  of  a  purple  hue,  the  uppermost  one  meltinc  im- 
perceptibly in  the  deej)  blue  sky.  On  airain  turniuir  my  eyes 
upward,  I  tliscovcrcd  that  the  columns  and  arches  had  all 
disappeared,  and  that  the  entire  sky  was  covered  with  a 
crimson  color,  which  resembled  a  lake  of  liquid  lire,  tossed 
into  innumerable  waves.  Stranire  were  my  feeliuirs  as  I 
looked  upon  this  scene,  and  thouirht  of  the  unknown  wilder- 
ness before  me,  and  of  the  IJein^  whose  ways  are  past  litulinjr 
out,  and  who  holdeth  the  entire  world,  with  its  cities,  moun- 
tains, rivers,  and  boundless  wildernesses,  in   the   hollow  of 


A  WTFALK   STORY. 


129 


1)(m1s  of 
(1  hcm- 
iiy  poll 
ilc'irc  to 
lore,  Tor 

hist  visit 
msclt"  to 
Olid,  i)Ut 
y  cheek 
rly  love, 
towards 
^himn  of 
3  tlistanl 
Mice  was 

[I  cohinin 

1    •  1 

iiiirrorea 

struck 

a  crim- 

lookin<r 

liiiihts. 

rs  wliich 

[u\\\  dis- 

isphiyed 

Itinii'  im- 
iny  eyes 
had   all 
with   a 
|e,  tossed 
<rs  as    1 
li  wilder- 
t  finding 
,  moun- 
)llow  of 


2  a 


His  li'.md.  lionu:  and  intently  did  [  liazc  upon  this  wonder 
of  the  Norlli;  and  at  the  nionicnl  it  was  fadinu'  away,  a  wihl 
swan  passed  over  mv  head,  sailinir  towards  IIufls{)n*s  IJay, 
and  as  his  h)n(dv  sonn-  (udiood  ah)!in'  the  silent  air,  I  retraced 
niv  steps  ti)  the  watch-lire^  and  was  sooti  a  dreamer. 

That  [loriion  of  the  St.  I/iwronce  cxtcudinLi-  hetween  Goose 
Island  and  lh(;  SauiuMiay  is  about  twenty  niih's  wid(\  'I'lie 
spriniT  tides  rise  and  fall  a  distance  of  ("iohteen  fei^t ;  the  water 
is  salt,  hut  (dt  ar  and  cold,  and  the  (diann(d  vtTV  de(>p.  Iferc 
it  was  tliat  I  first  saw  tlu^  hla(dv  seal,  the  wh.ile  [)()rpois(;, 
and  tlie  black  whal(\  Hut  speakintr  of  whah's,  reminds  me 
of  "  a  whalini^"  fish  storv.  A  sliori  distance  above  the  .S;i- 
i^uenav  river,  there  sliools  out  into  tlin  St.  Lawrence,  to  tlie 
distance  of  al>oi!t  (MitIu  miles,  a  broad  sand  bank,  w  hit  h  li'really 
endani»(M's  the  navitration.  In  descend iiiLi"  the  Lireat  river, 
we  had  to  double  this  capo,  auil  it  was  at  this  plac(^  that  1 
first  saw  a  whale.  'J'hc  lellow  had  been  pursued  by  a  sv/ord- 
fish,  and  when  we  discovered  him,  his  head  Vvis  turned 
lowards  the  beacdi,  and  he  was  moving"  with  nreal  rajiidity, 
occasionally  pcrformiiiir  a  most  fearful  Icaj),  ajul  ullci-inu"  a 
sound  that  resembled  tlie  be!IowinL''of  a  thousand  bulls.  The 
whale  must  have  been  fortv  l"eet  lonu-,  aiid  his  enemy  nearly 
twenty;  and  as  they  hurried  on  iheir  course  with  urt-at  sj)e(!d, 
the  siiiht  was,  indeed,  terrible,  i'ran'ic  willi  ram;  :uid  [)ain, 
it  so  happened  that  the  more  unwitddy  individual  toru-ol  his 
bearinfrs,  and  in  a  very  few  minutes  he  was  llouuderini^ 
about  on  the  sand  bar,  in  about  ten  leet  of  water,  wIk  n  the 
rascally  sword  immediately  !)eai  a  retreat.  After  a  uliilc, 
howev(M',  the  whale  concluded  \o  rest  himself,  but  as  ih(> 
tide  was  uoinir  out,  his  intentions  wer(  soon  (duuiued,  and 
he  heii'an  to  roll  himself  about,  and  slap  tin;  water  with  his 
tail  for  the  purj)Oso  of  (j^e^ttinnf  (dear.  His  elforts,  in  a  :  hort 
time,  proved  successful,  and  when  we  last  saw  him,  he  was 
9 


L  —  «-*-Ji*»iiC**i 


•"tf^-l^'^'*''-"--'-'-^-"'- 


130 


A  TOUR  TO  THE  RIVER  SAGUENAV. 


ill  the  deepest  part  of  the  river,  movintr  rapidly  towards  the 
ffulf,  and  spouting  up  the  water,  as  if  congratulating  hiinselt 
upon  his  narrow  escape. 

In  about  two  hours  after  witnessing  this  incident,  our  boat 
was  moored  at  the  mouth  of  the  8aguenay;  and  of  the  com- 
paratively unknown  wilderness  which  this  stream  waters, 
my  readers  will  find  some  information  in  the  next  chapter. 


'ards  the 
ir  himself 

,  our  boat 
the  oom- 
1  waters, 
liapter. 


CHAPTER      XIII. 


The   S;iiriirn;iy  River — Stnn 


11   pi.iun.—The   TIi„!s..irs  I5;.v  (' 


a  JeMiit   e>t;iljii>!iineiit. 


(iiiipnny — 
of 


w. 


Tar/oitsar,  July. 

Ano,.T  one  hnnclr.cl  .n,l  /If.y  miles  norll,  of  tl,c  S,.  J.„v- 
rence,  an,  „„  one  of  .he  .rails  lea,li„.  .0  Hudson-.  Day,  lies 
a  beaunfui  lake  called  .S..  ,,ol,n.  I,  is  about  for.v  n,iles  02 
and  su,.,.ounded  wi.h  a  heavily  .in.bered,  and  ..her  l::^,' 
coun.ry.  I,s  inle.s  are  „un,erous,  and  twelve  of  then,  are 
regular   r.vers.      Its  waters   are   elear,  and  abound  in  a  IZ 

lake  ,s  ,he  Sa^uenay  l{,ver,  which  .akes  a  sou.herly  diree.ion 
and  e,np.,es  n„o  the  S,.  I,awrenee.  It  is  thelar.c^t  .rihutary 
of  tin.  s,.eat  r,ve>-,and  nnques.ionahly  one  of  .1,,.  „,ost  re- 
ni  kal.le  on  the  eontinent.  Its  original  Indian  „a,ne  was 
C  uun,   s,gn„yn„  ,U.;,  ,r,,er;   hu.  .he  early  .Fes.n',  n.is- 

"^u„n>,  who  have  seatte,-ed   their   Suint-anie  names  over 

iow  r  """"7',"'"""'"  P-l-  '»  give  i,  the  na,ne  whieh 
•t  no«     ea,-s,  and  the  ronn.lahout  hnerpre.ation  of  whieh   i, 

;o:ro?s ' i:;"-  ■'■";— —-i-vorh,. ha..;.* 

be  looked  upon  as  a  nnn.ne  s,,ecimen  of  F.eneh  poe.ry 

rhe  scenery  of  the  Saguenay  is  wild  and  rotnan.ie",;  a„ 
uncommon  degree,     'riw.  (i„.,*  i.-.k-  ,. ..  ^" 


The  iirst  half  of  its 


eouryc  avcM'aircs  half 


f 


132 


A  TOUR  TO  THE   RIVKR  SAGTIENAY. 


a  milo  in  width,  and  runs  thron^H  an  nntroddm  wilderness 
of  pine  and  sprure-covcrfd  hills;  it  a!)(»imds  in  waterfalls 
and  rapids,  and  is  only  navigable  lor  the  Indian  eanoe.  A 
few  miles  below  the  most  southern  fall  on  the  river,  is  loeated 
the  villai,re  of  Chicoutimi,  where  an  extensive  luinlxM'  business 
is  transacted,  and  the  Hudson's  Hay  C/ompany  have  an  im- 
portant post.  The  villnire  has  an  ancient  appearance,  and 
contains  about  live  hundred  inhabitants,  chiefly  (';inadian 
French.  The  only  curiosity  in  the  place  is  a  rude  Catholic 
church,  which  is  said  to  have  been  built  by  Jesuit  missiona- 
ries upwards  of  one  hundred  years  af^o.  It  occu])ies  the  cen- 
tre of  a  grassy  lawn,  surrounded  with  shrubbery,  backed  by 
a  duster  of  wood-crowned  hills,  and  commiuids  a  iin(^  pros- 
pect, not  only  of  the  Safruenay,  but  also  of  a  spacious  bay, 
into  which  there  em})ties  a  noble  mountain  stream,  now 
known  as  Chicoutimi  River.  In  the  belfry  of  this  vene- 
rable church  bancs  a  clear-toned  bell,  with  an  inscription 
upon  it  wdiich  the  Icarninir  of  Canada  (with  all  its  lt>arned 
and  unnumbered  priests,)  has  not  yet  been  able  to  translate 
or  expound.  But,  great  as  is  the  mystery  of  this  inscription, 
it  is  less  mysterious  to  my  mind  than  are  the  motives  of  the 
Romish  Church  in  pbinting  the  cross  in  the  remotest  corners 
of  the  earth,  as  well  as  in  tiie  mightiest  of  cities. 

About  ten  miles  south  of  Chicoutimi,  there  recedes  from 
the  west  bank  of  the  Sagucnay,  to  the  distance  of  ten  miles, 
a  beautiful  expanse  of  water  called  Grand  Jiay.  The  ori- 
ginal name  of  this  bay  was  '"  Ua,  II a,"  descriptive  of  the 
surprise  which  the  French  experienced  when  they  first  en- 
tered it,  supposing  that  it  was  the  Sagucnay,  until  their 
shallop  grounded  on  the  uorth-western  shore.  At  the  head 
tliereof  is  another  settlement,  similar  to  Chicoufin,',,  Between 
these  two  places  the  Saguenay  is  rather  shallow,  (when  com- 
pared with  the  remainder  of  its  course,)  and  varies  in  width 
from  two  and  a  half  to  three  miles.     The  tides  of  the  ocean 


THE  RIVER  .SAGri:\AV. 


133 


are  ohsorvahlo  as  far  north  as  Cliicoiitimi,  and  this  entire  sec- 
tion of  the  river  is  naviirahlc  for  ships  of  the  lars^est  chiss. 

Thnt  portion  of  the  Sairuenav  extendinir  from  Grand  Hay 
to  the  St.  Lawrenee,  a  distance  of  sixty  miles,  is  (xrcally  dis- 
tinj^nished  for  its  wikl  and  pieinrcscpie  scenery.  1  know  not 
that  1  can  hctter  portray  to  mv  rea(hu''s  mind  the  pccidiarity 
of  this  river,  than  hy  the  folhnvinir  method.  Imauinc,  for  a 
moment,  an  extensive^  connlry  of  rocky  and  thinly-clad  moun- 
tains, sndth'nly  separated  i)y  some  convulsion  of  nature,  so 
as  to  form  an  almost  hottomless  chasm,  varying  from  one  to 
two  miles  in  width  ;  and  then  imaiiine  this  chasm  suddenly 
hall-lillcd  with  water,  and  that  the  moss  of  centuries  has  soft- 
ened the  rniiii(Hl  walls  on  (dther  side,  and  von  will  have  a 
pretty  accurate  idea  of  the  Sairuenav.  'J'he  shores  of  this 
river  an;  composed  principallv  of  <j,ranile,  and  every  hend 
presents  you  with  an  imposiua'  hlull',  thi^  miijority  of  whicdi 
are  eiiihl  humlred  feet  hiuh.  and  many  of  them  uj>wards  of 
fifteen  hundceil.  And,  acnerallv  speakiiiLT.  t!iis(^  tow(>ring 
bulwarks  are  not  content  to  loom  perpendicularly  into  the  air, 
but  they  must  ikumIs  hend  over,  as  if  to  look  at  llieir  own  sav- 
age features  rellected  in  the  deep.  Ay,  and  thiit  word  deep 
but  tells  the  simple  truth  ;  for  the  llood  that  rolls  beneath  is 
black  and  cold  as  the  bottondess  pit.  'I'o  sjx'ak  without  a 
ilgure,  and  from  actual  measurement,  I  can  state  that  many 
portions  of  the  Saau(?nay  are  one  thousand  feet  deep  ;  and 
the  shallowest  parts  not  much  less  than  one  humb'ed.  In 
many  places,  too,  the  water  is  as  deep  live  feet  from  the  rocky 
barriers  as  it  is  in  the  centre  of  the  stream.  'I'he  feelin<rs 
which  tilled  my  breast,  and  the  thouLHits  whicdi  oppressed  my 
brain,  as  I  padilled  by  these  places  in  mv  canoe,  w(  re  allied 
to  those  wlii(di  almost  overwhelmed  me  w  hen  1  lirst  looked 
upward  iVom  below  the  fall  to  the  miiihty  llood  of  Niagara. 
Awful  beyond  expression,  1  can  assure  you,  is  the  sensation 
which  one  experiences  in  sailing  along  the  Sagucnay,  to  raise 


134 


A  TOrR  TO  THE  RIVER  SAG!  EXAY. 


1 


liis  eye  heavenward,  and  beliold  haiii^iiiLS  directly  over  his 
licad,  a  mass  of  «rranite,  apparently  ready  to  totter  and  I'all, 
and  vveighiiifr,  perhaps,  a  million  tons.  Terrible  and  sublime, 
beyond  the  ima/rery  of  the  most  darinjr  poet,  are  these  elill's; 
and  while  they  proclaim  the  omnipotent  power  of  God,  they, 
at  the  same  time,  whisper  into  the  ear  of  man  that  he  is  but 
as  the  moth  which  flutters  in  the  noontide  air.  And  yet,  is  it 
not  enough  to  iill  the  heart  of  man  with  holy  pride  and  un- 
bounded love,  to  remember  that  the  soul  within  him  shall 
have  but  commenced  its  existence,  when  all  the  mountains 
of  the  world  shall  have  been  consumed  as  a  scroll? 

It  is  to  the  Sa<ru(Miay  that  I  am  indebtiid  for  one  of  the 
most  imposing  storm  pictures  that  I  ever  witnessed.  It  liad 
been  a  most  oppressive  day,  and,  as  I  was  passing  up  the 
river  at  a  late  hour  in  the  afternoon,  a  sudden  gust  of  wind 
came  rushing  down  the  stream,  causing  my  Indian  companion 
to  bow,  as  if  in  prayer,  and  then  to  urge  our  frail  canoe  towards 
a  little  rocky  island,  upon  which  we  immediately  landed. 
Soon  as  we  had  surmounted  our  refuge,  the  sky  was  over- 
cast with  a  pall  of  blackness,  which  completely  enveloped 
the  clifl^s  on  either  side,  and  gave  the  roaring  waters  a  death- 
like hue.  Then  broke  forth,  from  above  our  heads,  the 
heavy  roar  of  thunder,  and  as  it  gradually  increased  in  com- 
pass, and  became  more  threatening  and  impetuous,  its  volleys 
were  answ^ered  by  a  thousand  echoes,  which  seemed  to  have 
been  startled  from  every  crag  in  the  wilderness,  while  flashes 
of  the  most  vivid  lightning  were  constantly  illuminating  the 
gloomy  storm-made  cavern  which  appeared  before  us.  Down 
upon  his  knees  again  fell  my  poor  Indian  comrade,  and, 
while  I  sat  by  his  side,  trembling  with  terror,  the  thought 
actually  flew  into  my  mind  that  I  was  on  the  point  of  passing 
the  narrow  gateway  leading  to  hell.  Soon,  however,  the 
wind  ceased  to  blow,  the  thunder  to  roar,  and  the  lightning 
to  flash;  and,  in  less  than  one  hour  after  its  commencement 


BEAUTIES  OF  THE  SAGUENAY, 


135 


ihe  siorin  had  subsided,  and  that  j)ortion  of  the  Sauiionay 
was  jrlowini]^  hcnoath  the  crimson  rays  of  tho  scfiintr  sun. 

From  what  I  have  written,  my  reaih-r  may  he  impressed 
with  the  idea  that  this  river  is  ineapal)le  ot"  yiehliiinr  phMsnr- 
abh^  sensations.  Sail  ah»iiir  it"^  shores,  on  a  plrasimt  (h\y, 
wlien  its  cHirs  are  partly  hidden  in  shadow,  and  covered  with 
a  i(anze-Ukc  atmospliere,  and  th(>y  will  fill  your  lic:irl  with 
imaLTCS  of  beauty.  Or,  if  you  would  oiijoy  a  still  (rn^iter 
variety,  let  your  thouirhts  llow  away  upon  the  blue  smoke 
which  rises  from  an  Indian  encampment  hidden  in  a  dreamy- 
lookinir  cove  ;  let  your  eye  follow  an  eafjle  sweepinir  alouL^ 
his  airy  pathway  near  the  summit  of  the  clitls,  or  irlanco 
across  the  watery  plain,  and  see  the  silver  salmon  leapiuir  by 
hundreds  into  the  air  for  their  insect  food.  Here,  too,  you 
may  always  discover  a  number  of  seals,  bobbinir  iluMr  heads 
out  of  water,  as  if  watchiuij;  your  every  movement ;  and,  on 
the  other  hand,  a  drove  of  white  porpoises,  rolling  their  Inigo 
bodies  aloni^  the  waters,  ever  and  anon  spouting"  a  shower  of 
liquid  diamonds  into  tlie  air.  ()  yes,  manifold,  indeed,  and 
beautiful  beyond  conn)are,  are  the  charms  of  the   Satnienay. 

Allliouirh  my  description  of  this  river  lias,  thus  iar,  been  of 
a  general  character,  I  would  not  omit  to  mention,  as  perfect 
orems  of  scenery.  Trinity  Point,  Eternity  Cape,  The  Ta- 
bleau, and  Le  Tete  du  IJoule.  The  peculiarities  of  tlu^se 
promontories  are  so  well  described  by  their  very  names,  that 
I  shall  refrain  from  attemptinir  a  particular  description  of  my 


own. 


Ut 


The  wilderness  through  which  this  river  runs  is  of  such 
a  character  that  its  shores  can  never  be  greatly  changed  in 
their  external  appearance.  Only  a  small  proportion  of  its  soil 
can  ever  be  brought  under  cultivation  ;  and,  as  its  forests 
are  a  good  deal  stunted,  its  lumbering  resources  are  Jar  from 
being  inexhaustible.  The  wealth  which  it  contains  is  pro- 
bably of  a  mineral  character;  and  if  the  reports  I  he:ir  are 


130 


A  TOUR  TO  TIIK  RIVER  SAGIJKNAY. 


rorrtcl,  it  alxiiiiids  in  iron  orv.  'I'liat  it  would  yield  an 
:)l)»iiidaii('0  oi  liiu.'  Jiiarblo,  I  am  certain  ;  tor,  in  passinir  np 
this  stream,  the  ohservinu  eye  will  rre(|nently  (all  upon  a  broad 
vfMn  of  an  a.rtiele  as  j)nre  as   alabaster. 

How  is  it,  many  peopU?  are  led  to  iii(|uire,  that  so  little  has 
l)(!en  know  n  ol"  the  SajnuMiay  country,  until  ([uite  recently  ? 
The  (juestion  is  easily  solved.  It  is  a  portion  of  that  vast 
territory  whicii  has  h(?r(  tolore  Ixmii  umler  the  partial  jurisdic- 
tion of  tli{>  Hudson's  IJay  ('ompany.  1  say  j>arlially,  lor  the 
riirhl  ol'  til, it  powerful  monopoly,  as  1  understand  the  niatter, 
e.xtendeil  only  to  the  prt)Ieelion  and  use  of  its  wild  aidinals; 
but  it  has  endeavored  to  convince  the  would-b(!  setthu'  that 
it  was  the  sole  proj)riet()r  of  the  immense;  domain,  and  that 
he  had  no  riiiitl  to  live  thereon.  Its  Posts  on  the  Sa»uenay 
and  St.  Lawrence,  so  lar  as  collectiui'"  furs  is  concerned,  are 
a  dead  letter,  aiul  i\w.  journeys  of  its  distini<;uiyhed  (Governor 
are  herealler  to  be  conlined  to  the  extreme  north. 

'i'he  man  who  deserves  the  most  credit  for  encroachinij 
upon  the  so-calleil  ])ossessions  of  the  Hudson's  liay  Com- 
pany, and  pro\ini';  U>  the  world  that  its  powcn*  is  not  without 
limit,  is  ^Villiam  Price,  lv-;q.,of  Quebec.  All  tlu^  saw-mills 
located  on  the  Saguenay  and  the  lower  St.  Jiawrenco  were 
(jstablished  by  him,  and  are  now  conducted  at  liis  expense.  He 
gives  emj)loymenl  to  some  two  or  three  thousand  men,  and 
sends  to  England  annually  about  one  hundred  sliip  loads  of 
lumber,  in  the  shape  of  deals.  He  is  a  thorough-going  busi- 
ness man,  and,  did  I  not  know  the  fact  to  be  otherwise,  I 
shoidd  set  him  down  (with  regard  to  his  enterprise),  as  a  full- 
blooded  native  of  the  Union.  Many  of  the  ships  alluded  to 
ascend  the  Saguena\'  to  obtain  lumber,  as  far  as  Chicou- 
timi,  and  it  struck  me  as  singularly  i)aradoxical  to  see  ships 
winding  up  that  river  whose  legitimate  home  would  seem  to 
be  the  broad  ocean.  The  current  of  the  Saguenay  ilows,  in 
some  places,  at  the  rate  of  seven  miles  per  hour,  but  when 


THE  MOlNTAdN. 


INDIANS. 


137 


1 


tluTc  is  :my  wind  :it  all,  ii  Mows  ,  imI<  hi*:»»  v  iliicclly  iVoiii 
the  north  or  south,  so  that,  wiih  he  assi>  .urc  oi'  Uic  tidt', 
the  nj)\var(l  homid  ships  or  hri^s  niaii;»<f('  lo  u»'t  alo,  williui; 
much  dillii'ully.  'J'hc  oidy  stcamhoat  which  iia\'"..iU's  ih'  • 
riv(!r  is  ihc  Pocahontas,  and  is  the  property  of"  tr.  IVit**;. 
She  is  coninianth'd  hy  a  j^enth-inaii  who  uiuh  rsiamls  lun 
business;  and  I  can  assure  the  lovers  of  scenery  everv where 
that  a  sail  up  tln^  Sa«.nienay,  in  this  steanu'r,  w oidd  he  an 
event  they  could  not  easily  lorifet.  For  the  henetit  ol'  suni- 
nier-tonrists,  I  Moidd  lure  mention  the  tact,  that,  lor  ahout 
three  nuMilhs  in  the  year,  a  (.iiiehei;  steauK  r  makes  an  (M-ca- 
sional  trip  to  the  nio\ilh  of  the  Sairuenay,  hv  wav  ol"  the  river 
J)ii  Loup,  which  is  on  the  Canadian  route  to  llalilax. 

In  speakiiiL*'  of  the  SaLniena\  ,  I  nuist  not  omit  ti>  mention 
its  oriiiinal  proj)rielor.s,  a  trihe  ol'  Indians,  who  are  known 
as  the  .Mountaineers.  Ol"  course  ii  is  the  duly  of  mv  pen  to 
record  tin;  fad  that,  where  once  nourislie(|  a  laruc  nation  of 
brave  and  heroic  warriors,  there  now  exists  a  little  hand  of 
ahout  one  hundred  I'aniilies.  .luiluinu' from  what  I  have  heard 
and  seen,  the  Mountaineers  were  once  the  \ery  liowci  of  this 
northern  wilderness,  even  as  the  Chippewas  were  once  the 
{^lory  of  the  Lake  Superior  region.  The  .Mouniaineers  of 
tlu!  ])resent  day  are  sunicicntly  educated  to  speak  a  smalter- 
ino;  of  French;  but  thev  know  nothinuf  of  the  trm-  iun\,  and 
are  as  poor  in  spirit  as  thev  art;  indiueiii  with  n^ard  to  the 
necessaries  of  life.  'J'he  men  of  this  nation  are  rather  short, 
but  well-formed  ;  and  the  women  are  heauliful.  They  are 
proud  in  spirit,  inlellit>ent,  and  kiml-hearted  ;  and  many  of 
them,  it  is  pleasant  to  know%  are  no  longer  the  victims  of  the 
baneful  "  lire-w^atcM*."  For  this  blessing  they  art;  indebted  to 
the  Romish  j)rieslhooil,  which  fact  I  record  widi  ureal  plea- 
sure. 'I'he  Mountaineers  are  a  j)articidarl\'  honest  people, 
and  great  friends  to  the  slranger  while  man.  'i'liey  are  also 
distinguished  lor  their  expertiiess  in  hunling,  and  take  pleas- 


138 


A  TOI'R  TO  THK    RIVER  SAOT'KNAY 


lire  ill  rccoiiiiliiiir  the  exploits  of  their  fon^ratlicrH.  And  tlirir 
lanj^naire.  Mccordinir  to  :i  Catholie  missionary,  Pierre  Me  Hoche, 
is  one  of  the  oldest  and  purest  Indian  laniriinires  on  tlu;  con- 
tinent. It  ahounds  in  Jjatin  words,  and  is  eapai)le  of  heini^ 
rejj^ularlv  eonstrueted  and  translated.  The  (pialities,  in  line, 
which  inak(;  the  history  of  this  people  interestin<r.  :ire  mani- 
fold;  and  it  is  sad  to  think  of  the  rapidity  with  which  they 
arc  with(;rinir  away,  even  as  the  leaves  of  a  premature  au- 
tumn. 

Hut  it  is  time  that  I  should  j^ive  yon  a  hrief  deserij)ti()n  of 
Tadousac,  where  I  have  heen  spendinir  a  few  days,,  and 
whence  I  date  my  chapters.  The  meanin<r  of  that  W(jrd  is 
a  French  corruption  of  the  Indian  word  Sajruenay.  It  is  situ- 
ated directly  at  the  mouth  of  the  Satruenay,  and  commands 
a  fine  prospect  of  that  river,  as  well  as  of  the  St.  liawrencc, 
which,  at  this  point,  is  nearly  thirty  miles  in  width.  Imme- 
diately at  the  base  of  the  hill  upon  which  the  hamlet  stands,  is 
a  beautiful  hay,  hemmed  in  with  mountains  of  solid  rock.  The 
place  is  composed  of  houses  belonging  to  an  Indian  trading- 
post,  and  another  dwelling,  occupied  by  a  worthy  Scotchman, 
named  (Jvinglon,  who  is  a  pilot  by  profession.  The  door 
of  my  friend's  cabin  is  always  open  to  the  admission  of  the 
tourist,  and  if  others  who  may  chance  to  stop  here  are  as 
kindly  treated  as  I  was,  they  will  be  disposed  to  thank  their 
stars.  In  front  of  the  trading-post  are  planted  a  few  cannon, 
and  directly  beside  them,  at  the  present  time,  is  a  small  In- 
dian encampment.  In  a  rock-bound  bay,  about  half  a  mile 
north  of  my  temporary  residence,  is  an  extensive  lumbering 
establishment,  belonging  to  William  Price.  This  spot  is  the 
principal  port  of  the  Saguenay,  and  the  one  where  belongs 
the  Pocahontas  steamboat.  About  a  dozen  paces  from  the 
table,  where  I  am  now  writing,  is  the  ruin  of  a  Jesuit  reli- 
gious establishment,  which  is  considered  the  great  curiosity  of 
this  region.     The  appearance  of  the  ruin  is  not  imposing,  as 


^H 


,J 


AN  ANHENT  RUN. 


i:iO 


yon  c.-.n  .lisrovri  nolhinnr  h„f  i|,e  loiin.lations  upon  wlii.-I,  the 
unci.Mt  iMliticc  rost.Ml;  l„,t  it  is  coMli.i.Mitlv  allinn..i  that  upon 
this  sp.,t  emeu  stood  tl,(.  first  stone  ami  mortar  f,uil.li„.r  ,.vrr 
erecML'.l  on  tlip  conliiu-nt  of  \ortli  America.  \,„I  tliis'state- 
/JHMit  I  am  not  disposed  to  (piestion,  f„r  from  the  verv  eentrc 
of  the  ruin  has  i-rown  a  ehister  of  pine  trees,  wlii.'h  must 
have  been  exposed  to  the  wintry  hlasts  of  at  h-ast  two  hun- 
dred years.  Tlie,  fate,  and  the  very  names  of  those  who  f.rst 
pitched  th.'ir  tents  in  this  wihlcrness,  and  here  erected  an  altar 
to  the  C;o,l  of  their  fathers,  are  alike  unknown.  Who,  who 
can  tell  what  shall  be  on  the  morrow? 


C  II  A  PTi:  K     XIV. 


'J'lic  s;iliii(iii — Scvcnil  advcntiirt's. 


I  INTF.M)  to  (l(>votr  tlir  present  clmpler  to  tli(>  ncktHMvlcdtrrd 
kiiiil'  ol"  :ill  tli(>  liiiiiy  Ii'ihes,  t!i(>  lillie,  wiKl  and  hcaiitirul  sal- 
mon. He  pays  an  annual  visit  to  all  tin;  trihntarics  of  the 
St.  Iia\vr(MU-('  lyino-  between  l^nel)ee,  and  Hie  Islaml,  (where 
eoniinences  the  dull"  of  St.  liawrence,)  hut  he  is  nu)si  ahun- 
danl  (»n  the  north  sliore,  and  in  tiiose  streams  which  are  he- 
yond  \\\c  iuristhclion  of  eivinzalion.  Il(>  usuallv  makes  Ids 
llrst  nppearaiu'c  about  the  Iwentii-th  ol'  May.  ami  eonlinues 
in  season  for  two  months.  Ni^u'l)'  all  th(^  streams  in  this  re- 
ilion  abound  in  waterfalls,  but  those  are  seklom  found  whi(*h 
the  sahnon  does  not  surmount  in  his  "■  excelsior"  j)i!i:riinane  ; 
ami  the  stories  related  of  his  hvaps  \\\v  Irulv  wonderful.  It 
is  not  ot'tcMi  that  he  is  found,  tnan  !)ouiul  at  the  head  ol"  the 
streams  he  may  have  ;iseended;  but  when  thus  Ibuud  and 
caplnrcnl,  his  llesli  is  whit(\  skin  black,  and  his  I 


orm, 


ioni''. 


lank 


am 


I   1 


can   as   is   the   ri 


bhed 


sea-saml 


II 


IS   weiiilil  IS 


commonly  about   rifteeii    pounds,  but  he   is  sonnnimes  taken 


weiohini>-  full    forty   pound 


'i'h 


e  salmon   is  an    important 


article  ol  export  Irom  this  re<i:ion,  and  is  also  extimsively  used 
by  the  Indians.  The  common  mode  for  takinir  them  is  with 
a  stationary  net,  which  is  set  just  on  the  margin  of  the  river, 


p 

■1 


i 


SAf,M()\    riSlIlNfi. 


in 


at  low  water.  Il  is  ciislomarv  with  tlir  salmon  l(»  a^i-ctid  the 
St.  Lawrence  as  near  the  shore  as  pos^^ihh-,  and  their  rnnninif 
time  is  when  llie  ti(h'  is  hiiih  ;  the  (Mmsecinenee  is,  that,  they 
enter  the  net.  at  one  tide,  and  are  taken  (nit  at  another;  a.nd 
it  is  rretpiently  the  ease,  that  npwards  of  three  hundred  arn 
taken  at  one  time.  'J'he  Indian  mo(h'  tor  taking  them  is  with 
lh(;  spear,  liy  torchliirht.  'I'wo  hnUans  L!('nerallv  enter  a  ca- 
noe, and  while  one  packlles  it  nois<'lesslv  alon<r,  the  other 
holds  lorth  the  liirhf,  (which  attracts  tlu!  attention  ol"  tho  iisli, 
and  causes  iheni  to  apjiroacdi  their  enemv.)  and  pierces  them 
with  the  cruel  sp(!jir.  'I'his  mode  of  takini(  the  salmon  is  to 
he  d(>precat(Ml ;  hut  tin;  savaire  must  live,  and  possesses  no 
other  means  lor  catcdiiiiir  tluMii.  It  is  hut  seldom  that  the  In- 
dian  lakes  mor(;  than  a  dozen  duriuir  a  sinirle  ni'dit,  lor  lie 
cnniiot  allord  to  waste  tin;  hoimties  which  he  receives  iVom 
Nature.  l''(n*  ])reservintr  the  salmon,  the  Canadians  have 
three  modes: — I'irst,  hv  i)Uttini[;  them  in  salt  lor  \\\rvj)  davs, 
and  then  smokinii;  them;  secondly,  hy  remdarly  saltinjr  them 
down  as  you  would  ma(d<erel  ;  and,  thirdiv,  hv  hoiliuL";  imd 
then  ])icklinL;"  lluun  in  vincL'^ar.  'J'he  Indians  smoke  them; 
but  oniv  to  a  limited  extent. 

I  must  iu)w^  <riv(!  you  some  account  of  my  experience  in 
the  way  of  salmon-fishin(r  with  the  lly,  of  which  glorious 
sport  1  have  rticently  had  an  ahundauce.  if,  however,  [ 
should  imlite  a  nutnher  of  episodes,  you  will  please  rf;- 
memher  that  "  it  is  mv  way,"  and  that  I  deem  it  a  |)rivilei»-e 
of  th(>  anL>ler  to  he  as  wayward  in  his  discourse  as  lu'v.  the 
channels  of  his  favorite  mountain  streams. 

My  lirst  salmon  expedition  of  the  seastui  was  to  the  St. 
Marf^niret  Jiiver.  1  liad  two  com|)anions  with  me;  oiu',  an 
aceomplisheil  lly-fisher  of  (iuehec,  and  the  other,  the  princ'i- 
pal  man  of  Tadousae,  a  lumher  mamifacturer.  VV C  went  in 
a  gig-hoat  helonging  to  the  latter,  and,  having  started  at  nine 
o'clock,  we  reached  our  place  of  destination  hy  twelve.      We 


^. 


142 


A  TOUR  TO  THK   RIVER  SAGIKNAY. 


found  ilu-  river  unromuiouly  liitrh,  and  a  littk;  rily.  \\ v  made 
a  dc'sj)crate  od'ort,  liowever,  and  threw  the  line  about  tlirce 
liours,  caj)tiirini(  four  sahiion,  only  one  of  wliiidi  it  was  my 
privilt'ire  to  take.   He  was  a 


hand: 


ome 


fell 


ow.  weiLnimu  seven- 


teen ])ounds,  and  in  cfood  condition;  he  alTorded  niy  com- 
panions a  irood  deal  of  fun,  and  placed  me  in  a  jieculiar  situ- 
ation,     lie  had  taken  the  hook  when   I  was  wadinii  in  swift 


water  up  to  my  middle,  and  soon  as  he  di 


iscovered  his  j)redi- 


cament,  he  made  a  sudden  wheel,  and  started  down  the  strea 


m. 


I 


that  1  must  allow  h 


My  rod  bent  nearly  double,  and  l  saw  tliai  i  must  allow  nmi 
all  the  line  he  wanted;  and  havinir  only  tliree  hundred  leet 
on  my  reel,  I  foimd  it  nec(^ssary  to  follow  him  with  all  speed. 
In  dointr  so,  I  lost  my  footinir,  and  was  swej)t  by  the  current 
against  a  pile  of  lo<rs  ;  meantime  my  reel  was  in  the  water, 
and  whiz/ino'  away  at  a  tremendous  rate.  The  lo<r  upon 
which  I  depended  hap[)ened  to  be  in  a  balancinir  condition, 
and,  when  I  attempted  to  surmount  it,  it  pluiiLnnl  into  the  cur- 
rent, and  floated  down  the-  stream,  havinir  your  humble  serv- 
ant astride  of  one  entl,  and  clinjjing'  to  it  with  all  his  miiriit. 
Onwaril  went  the  salmon,  the  loo-,  -and  the  llsherman.  Finally 
the  lo<r  found  its  way  into  an  (hUIv  of  the  river,  and,  while 
it  was  swinirino"  about,  as  if  out  of  mere  deviltry,  1  left  it,  and 
fortunately  reached  the  shore.  My  life  having'  been  spared, 
I  was  more  anxious  than  ev(M-  to  take  the  liib  of  the  salmon 
wliich  had  caused  my  duckina-,  and  so  I  held  aloft  the  rod, 
and  continued  down  the  stream,  over  an  immense  number  of 
loga  and  rocks,  which  seemed  to  have  been  placed  there  for 
my  especial  botheration.  On  cominii  in  siixht  of  my  lish,  I 
found  him  in  still  water,  with  his  belly  turned  upward,  and 
completely  drowned.  I  immediately  drew  him  on  a  sand- 
bank near  I)y,  and,  while  enuaged  in  the  reasonable  employ- 
ment of  drying  my  clothes,  my  brother  fishermen  came  up 
to  congratulate  me  uj)on  my  success,  but  lauoiiing,  in  the 
mean  time,  most  iieartily.     The  lumber  merchant  said  that 


•1 


SALMON"   FISHING    ADVKNTI'RES. 


143 


tilt'  l(»ir  I  li:i*l  b('t'n  ridiiiij'  beloiiircd  to  liiiii,  and  it  \v;is  liis  in- 
tention to  charue  nic;  one  sliillinir  lor  ni\'  j)assai.n'  Iroin  the 
rift  where  1  liad  liooked  the  salmon,  to  tiie  spot  when^  1  had 
landed  him,  which  was  in  full  view  of  tlu;  Saii:ucnay ;  and 
my  l^iiebec  friend  remarked,  that  he  knew  the  people  ol"  Vaii- 
kee-land  had  a  (pieer  way  of  doinn  thiniis,  hut  lie  was  not 
aetpiainted  with  their  peeuliar  mode  of  taking  salmon.  As 
may  be  readily  ima<rined,  we  retraced  our  stejjs  bacdv  to  the 
lofr  shanty  where  we  had  stoj)ped,  and,  havinir  carefully 
stowed  away  our  salmon,  we  laid  a.-itU'  our  fishinu  tackle, 
and  made  arranirements  for  a  little  sport  of  another  kind. 

The  hamlet  of  St.  Marj^aret,  where  we  spent  tin;  nij^ht, 
contains  some  eight  or  ten  log  shantees,  which  are  occupied 
by  about  twenty  families,  composed  of  Canadians,  Indians, 
and  half-breeds.  They  obtain  their  livinir  by  "  driviiiir"  loirs, 
and  are  as  happy  as  they  are  ignorant.  Anxious  to  set>  what 
we  could  of  society  among  this  people,  we  sent  forth  a  mani- 
festo, callinir  upon  the  citizens  generally  to  attend  a  dance  at 
the  cabin  of  a  certain  man  whom  we  had  enuancd  to  i>ive  the 
party,  at  our  expense.  Punctual  to  the  aj)p<)iiiie(.l  hour,  the 
assembly  came  toijether.  Many  of  the  men  did  not  take  the 
trouble  vvvn  to  wash  their  haiuls,  or  to  put  on  a  coat  before 
comina"  to  the  party;  but  the  women  were  neatly  dressed 
W'ith  blue  and  scarh^t  ptJtticoats,  over  which  w(m-(>  displayed 
night-oowns  of  white  cotton.  'J'lie  fiddler  was  an  Indian, 
and  the  dancing  hall  (some  twelve  feet  s(]uare),  was  liohted 
with  a  wooden  lamp,  supplied  with  seal  oil.  'V\w  dance 
was  wilhont  any  particular  method;  and,  when  a  L''<'ntleman 
wished  to  tri])  the  light  fantastic  toe  he  had  only  to  station 
himself  on  the  lloor,  when  one  of  his  iViiMids  would  select  his 
partmu",  and  lead  her  up  lor  his  acceptance.  'i'h(>  conse- 
quence was,  that,  if  a  man  wished  to  dance  with  any  particu- 
lar lady,  he  was  obliged  to  make  a  previous  arraiiiiemenl 
with  ills  leading-tip  friend.     The  fiddler  not  only  furnished 


I 


144 


A  TOUR  TO  THE  RIVER  SAGUEXAY. 


all  lli(!  iimsic,  hut  also  perlormod  a  i>()0(lly  portion  of  tlio  dniic- 
ini(, — liddliiiir  and  daiicintr  at  tlio  same  tinio.  'i'lic  supper 
was  laid  on  tlic  tahlc  at  l(!n  ()'clo(d\,  and  consisted  prinripnlly 
of  tiricd  heaver  tail,  and  cariboo  meat,  fried  and  !)oiled  f-;il- 
mon,  (wliieli  was  rooked  ont  of  doors,  near  tlm  entrance  to 
the  cahin,)  rye  bread,  maple  molasses,  and  tea. 

'IMie  j)arty  broke  up  at  tw(dve  o'clock,  wlien  we  retired  to 
the  cahin,  where  we  had  secured  lo(l(rin<rs,  and  it  is  an  actual 
fact  that  our  sleepin<T  room  on  that  niirht  was  occupir'd,  not 
only  by  ourselves,  but  l)y  two  women,  one  man,  and  four 
children,  (divided  into  three  beds,)  all  members  of  the  same 
family  with  whom  we  had  succeeded  in  obtaininir  accoinmo- 
dations.  On  the  followinjr  mornimT  we  rose  at  an  eaiiy  hour, 
and  attain  tried  our  luck  at  salmon  fishinir,  but  oidy  killed  a 
few  trout,  wlu^reupon  we  hoarded  our  gig,  and  started  down 
the  romantic  Sajjfuenav,  tellintr  stories  and  sinuinj''  son<rs. 
Anotlier  river,  in  this  rejxion,  which  affords  jmod  salmon 
fishing,  is  the  Msquemain.  It  empties  into  the  (St.  Jiawrencc, 
about  twentv  miles  east  of  Saguenav.  It  is  a  cold,  clear  and 
rapid  stream,  abounding  in  rapids  ;uul  deep  pools.  At  its 
mouth  is  located  a  saw-mill,  but  its  water-works  arc  so 
managed  as  not  to  interfere  with  the  salmon.  The  lish  of 
this  stream  ascend  to  a  great  distance,  and,  though  rather 
small,  are  exceedingly  abundant.  The  best  fishing  in  the 
river  is  at  the  foot  of  the  water-fall,  which  forms  a  sheet  of 
foam,  about  one  mile  above  the  moutii.  Mv  Quebec  friend 
accompanied  me  to  this  place,  and  though  we  only  threw 
the  fly  about  six  hours,  (three  in  the  evening  and  three  in  the 
morning.)  yet  v.-e  killed  thirteen  salmon,  without  losing 
a  single  line,  and  with  the  loss  of  onlv  three  Hies.  Owing 
to  the  bushy  shores  of  the  stream,  we  were  comiieiled  to 
fish  standing  upon  boulders,  located  in  its  centre;  and  when- 
ever we  hooked  a  fish,  there  was  no  alternative  but  to  plunge 
into  the  current,  and  trust  to  fortune.     For  some  unaccount- 


SALMON    FISH1\(;    AI)\  rXTlRKS. 


llf) 


;il)l('  rciison,  (of  course,  it  could  not  \\:\\v  Immmi  o/n'  I'lull.)  wo 
los!  nior(>  iluui  luilf  of  those  \vc  hooked.  I>ul  it  was  worili 
a  luodei'iite  loriuiie  to  see  the  iii:ii.niilicent  h'aps  w  hich  the 
Jish  pertornied,  not  only  when  lliey  toidv  the  ll\  .  hut  when 
they  altempted  to  escape.  There  was  not  one  iudi\  idual  that 
did  not  LHve  us  a  race  of  at  least  hah'  a  mih'.  The  larL;-esl 
taken,  (hirinir  this  e.\|)e(hlion,  was  kiHed  hv  \nv  conipiuion, 
and  caused  more  ti'ouhh'  than  aU  his  oih.er  pi'i/es.  .No'onlv 
did  die  leUow  attempt  to  (dear  himsell' hv  slenimiiej  ihe  loam 
of  a  rapid,  and  ruhhino-  his  nose  aiiainst  a  ro(dv,  to  hreak  the 
hook,  hut  he  also  swept  hinisell'  complet(d\-  round  a  laro-(.' 
boulder,  poked  his  head  into  a  net,  ami  ran,  w  ith  the  speed 
of  liiihliinii!  to  the  exlreme  end  ol'  his  line.  It  tu'ik  mv 
iVieud  loriy  minutes  to  laud  this  s:dmon,  and  I  assuri'  vou 
ho  was  parliiadarly  pleased  when  he  I'ound  dial  hi-  llsji 
wnuLihcd  one  pound  more  than  the  1  irijcst  I  had  taken.  'l'h(.' 
lact  was  our  I'ods  were  almost  pi-ecis(d\'  alike,  in  IfUL'.'th  and 
streiiiilh,  and  as  two  counlries  were  represented  in  oui-  per- 
sons,  die  slril'e  hetwcen  us  was  (piiie  despera'e.  1  will  ac- 
knowdediic  that  the  ('anada  Lii'iuli'inan  took  the  laru'est 
salmon,  hiii  the  Slates  aiiiiler  took  tliem  in  the  i^reai!  i  num- 
ber. A'olw  idistandiuL!"  all  ihe  line  sj)or!  that  we  enjo'.ed  on 
the  i']--  [ueinain.  I  am  c'.MUpidled  !o  stale  thai  it  wa-  more 
than  c(Min!>'i'halanced  hy  the  sulieriuiis  we  eudiii'ed  Iriun  the 
black  liy  and  mus(pie|()e.  The  hiaek  ll\'  is  ahoul  hail'  as  larnc 
as  die  e(mimon  house  lly,  and,  thouidi  il  hiu's  vou  (UiK' 
in  the  day  time,  they  are  as  ahiindan!  m  the  air  as  ihe  sand 
upon  die  s.  a  shore,  and  M'munous  to  an  uiicommoii  deni'ce. 
'.riie  nni-'pu'toe  of  this  reuion  is  an  uncdinimmU'  ijaiini.  huiii- 
b'iiiit  il,  and  hungry  creature,  and  his  howl  is  peeiiliai-i\-  horri- 
ble. We  had  been  almost  (le\oured  bv  ihe  bhud'.  llies, 
durini!-  the  arim'noon,  and  as  soon  as  darkness  came,  we 
S(>ciired  a  couple  of  beds  in  a  Freii(diiiian's  house,  and,  as 
we  tumbled  in,  coniiratidaled  oiirsidves  upon  a  little  (;oiu- 
10 


116 


A   TOL'U  TO  THE    RIVER  SAGUENAY. 


fortahlc  repose,    ll  \v;i.s  an  exceediiii'lv  sullrv  iii'Hil,  and  thou'rh 
we  were  both  in  a  complete  fever,  IVoin  the  lly  j)oisoii  eircii- 
laliiig"  ill  our  veins,  ihe  heal  exeoHed  the  fever,  and  our  hodies 
were    literally  in    a   ineltinir    condition.      We    endeavored    to 
lind  relief  I)V  Ivina  upon  the  hare  lloor,  with  no  (-overiiiir  hut 
a  sinjiki  sheet,  and   this   arrantre-nient  niinht    have   answered, 
had  it  not  heen  for  the  flood  of  nnis(iuetoes  which  poured  into 
the  room,  as  one  of  us  haj)[)ened  toojien  a  window  to  ohtain 
fresh  air.      J'^ver}-  s])ot  on  our  hodies  which  the  llies  had  left 
untouched,  was   immediately  setthul  upon  by  these  devils  in 
miniature.      They    j)ierced    the  very  sheets  that   covered    us, 
and  su(dved  away  at  our  hlood  witlnnit    any  mercy.      Liiwil- 
liuii'  to  depart  this  life  without  one  etlort  more  to  save  it,  wc 
then  dressed  ou^'selves,  and  sauntered  into  the  open  air.      AVe 
made  our  way  towards  a  pile  of  lund)er,  near   the   san-mill, 
and  without  a  j»arlicle   of  coveriuiT,  endeavored   to   obtain   a 
little  sleej) ;  hut  the  insect  hounds  soon  lound  us  out.  and  wc 
bolted  for  another  place.      Our  course   now  lay  towards   the 
rude  hritJoe  whi(di  spans  the;  i']s(iueniain,  Just  above  tin;  mill. 
Our  intentions  at  tin;  lime,  thouLih  not  uttered  aloud,  I  verily 
believe  were  of  a  fearful  character.      On  reaching"  the  hridtrc, 
liowever,  a  refreshinti;    breez(!  sprunjx    up,  and  we  enjoyed   a 
brief  respite  from  our  savatre  enemies.     We   now  congratu- 
lated  each  other  upon  our  good  forlnnc,  and   had  just   con- 
cluded to   be  quite  ha})py,  when  we  discovered  a  number  of 
Indians  on  the  river,  spearing  salmon  by  torch  light,  anil,  as 
it  was  after  midnight,  and  the  heathens  were  spearing  on  our 
lishing  ground,  we  mournfully  concluiled  that  our  morning's 
s})orl  was   at  an   end.      luit  while    in   ihi;  very  midst  of  this 
agreea!)le  mood  of  mind,  a  lot  of  skylarking  musipietoes  dis- 
covered our  retreat,  and  we  were  a<rain  besieired.      \V c  now 
endeavored  to  lind  relief  on  board  the  boat  which  had  brought 
us  from   the    ISaguenay ;    and  here  it  was    that  wc   spent  the 
two  hist  liours  of  that  most   miserable  night.     Though  not 


"'m 


I XPLEASAXT  PREDICAMKNT 


1  n 


lis 


It 


oxactly  in  :i  riiliiiii-  coiiilitioii  tollirow  the  llv  willi  ;iiiv  dc-irit; 
ol"  coiiilorl,  we  iiiiidc  an  cllttrt  allrr  salmon  in  tli*.'  tn<»niin'/, 
md  snccccilcd  in  killing  a  poriion  ol  ilic  iliiiMcfn  alrcadv 
mentioned.  'I'lial  wceiijoscd  the  irood  hrealvl'ast  wliieii  we 
had  prepared  Idr  onr  especial  lien''tlt,  and  thai  we  departed 
lV()ni  l']s()iiemain  us  soon  as  possihh-,  are  facts  whicii  I  con- 
sider sell-ev  i(h'nt. 

The  month  ol  the  Sauiienav,  as  I  have  helore  remarked, 
is  completely  hemmed  in  uiih  i)arriers  of  solid  roidv,  and, 
when  the  tide  is  tlowiiiir  in  I'rom  one  of  these  j)oints,  llrsi 
rate  salmon  tishiiiii'  may  occasionally  Ik;  enjoved.  I  liavu 
mMpu'iitly  had  die  [)leasnre  of  throwinii  the  l]\  on  the  point  in 
que.slion.  and,  on  one  occasion,  was  so  carrieil  away  witii  the 
sj)ort,  that  1  look  no  notice  (d'  the  rising'  tide.  It  was  lu'ar  the 
sunset  hour,  and  on  prejjarinu'  lor  mv  departnr<'  home,  I  dis- 
covered that.  I  was  complelidy  surrounded  with  water,  and 
dial  my  situation  was  monienllv  liccomiiiL;-  more  daiiii"erous. 
'I'he  water  was  hitle'r  cold,  ;ind  turhulent,  and  ihe  chaiimd 
wlii(di  separaleil  me  iVom  the  main  shore  was  upwards  ol'  a 
.hundred  yards  wide,  i  was  more  tlian  half  a  mile  from  the 
nearest  dwellinu",  and  could  not  see  u  single  sad  (Ui  the  Sa- 
guenay,  (»r  the  still  hroader  St.  Lawrence,  exceptiuL!  a  solitary 


ship,  which  was  ten  leaLiues   away.      M 


\  predicament,  I    as 


sure  von,  was  not  to  he  envieil.  [  could  not  entertain  the 
idea  that  I  should  lose  my  life;  and,  thoiiiih  I  felt  inys(df  to 
be  in  daiioer,  my  sensations  were  suj)remely  ridiculous. 
Hilt  somediinu',  I  was  persuatiedi,  must  Ix;  ilone,  and  that    im- 


nie 


diate 


ui'l   so   1  commenceil   tiirowmLt"  oil    mv   ( 


If 


doll 


les 


for  u  linal  effort  [a  save  my  life.  1  lia.d  strij)ped  od"  every- 
tliiiii^  hut  siiirl  and  pantaloons,  and  to  a  Ihxdv  of  crows,  which 
were  cawina;  ahove  my  head,  I  must  have  presented  an  inte- 


restinir  [)icUiri 


It! 


louirhloi'  the  famous  swimmitiir  adventures 


of  Jieandoraiid  liord  IJyron,  and.  also,  of  the  inconveniences 
of  bein<r  drowned,  (as  Charles  liamb  did  of  being   hanged,; 


118 


A    lOlR  TO  THE   lilVF.R  SAGIKNAV. 


but  jii.-l  :is  I  was  iihout  ti)  iirilxc  the  iiupoilnil  pliiiiiic,  an 
Iiidi  111  ill  liis  caiioc  caiiic  ulidiiiii  around  a  jiciLildioiiiii''  |)()iut, 
and  I  was  rcscm d,  Uincllicr  willioiu;  salmon  and  .'^oiiir  dozen 
pounds    of  troiil. 

l)iif  i  !ia\i'  iioi  liiiislicd  iu\'  st<)r\-  \ci.  ( )n  l!i(  iiiLiht  follow- 
iiii:  llii^  iii<-id(  lit  I  rclir;  li  to  lied  in  ratluT  a  so'icf  mood,  lor 
1  could  not  hani-ii  the  rrcol|rcti(Mi  ol'  ni\'  narrow  cx-apc  Irom 
it  dii(d\in!i,  if  not  Irom  a  walcrx'  Lli'axc.  'I'lu'  (•oiir-(()ucncc 
was,  that,  in  my  dreams,  1  underwent  h  n  timrs  as  much 
nient)!  sullerinL!'  as  1  had  aetualiv  endured.  I  dreamed  that, 
in  scaliiiL;'  the  roclss  \\hi('h  h'ad  to  the  point  alluih'd  to.  I  lost 
in\'  rootinii:,  and  fell  into  the  water.  \\  hile  in  thi-  (-(nKHlioii. 
(Irinkiiiii'  more  sah  water  than  1  wanted,  lloiimh'rinjj'  alntut. 
like  a  sit  I;  ]i(U'j)oise,  uas]>in'^  tor  breath,  and  utteriiiii"  a  iiu)sl 
cloh'ful  moan,  I  was  suddenly  awidvcned.  ami  lound  m\  i.>(K)d 
laiuliord  at  m\'  si(h'.  tapping  me  on  the  shouhh'i'.  tor  the  pur- 
pose of  summoninir  iiu> — iVom  llie  back  ol'  the  ntLi'ht marc 
1  liad  been  ridinL^ 

As  I  may  not  have  another  oj)portu!iily  ol"  alhidiiiLi'  to 
lliis  portion  of  the  Sauueiiay.  and  the  rofJv\  poim  ah'eady 
albided  to,  I  must  iii\('  my  reaiU'r  another,  and  a  remarkai)k' 
im'i(h'nt  eon  nee  ted  with  them.  Some  years  aL''(>.  the  I  ludson's 
IJay  ("ompaiiy  had  in  its  ein[)h)y,  as  (derk  at  'i'a(b)nsae, 
an  inielliiM'iit  and  amial)k^  yoiinn'  tnan,  whose  name  was 
MeCray.  i'or  some  ui\.u-e<;Uiil;iLde  reason,  he  became  dc- 
raiUi'Ml  ;  amk  on  oiu;  occasion,  a  cohl  and  stormy  winter 
niahl.  he  took  it  into  his  head  to  cross  the  Saiiuenav  upon  the 
lloatiiiii"  ice,  wlii(di  was  comiiiir  down  at  the  time.  When  iirst 
discftvcred.  he  was  halt"  way  across  the  .stream,  and  makiuL'" 
JViuiitlul  leaj)s  ol"  ten  and  tifteen  I'eet  rrt)ni  one  l)Io(d>.  ol'  ice 
lo  another.  His  rriends  followed  in  (dose  pursuit,  with  a 
boat,  as  soon  a.s  possilde,  but  on  reaidiino"  the  opposite  shore, 
lh(3  unha})py  man  was  not  to  be  i'ouiul.  On  the  day  rollow- 
ing,  however,  certain  people,  who  were  hunting  lor  iuni  in 


FISH   OF  THF   S\(;rF\AV. 


1  11) 


10 

il)le 


)n 


ac 


(le- 


iitor 


tl 


ic 


lirst 

ving 

ice 

llli   a 

\Ol"C', 

llow- 
II  in 


llic  wooils.  (iisri)\ crfd  liiiii.  pi'i'dii'd  ill  llic  ci'oifli  ol  ;i  tree, 
almost  iVdZcil  lo  ilcalll.  ami  senseless  ;is  ;i  ejod  of  llii'  \.illey. 
He  w.is  taki'u  home,  the  circulinioii  of  !iis  Mood  reviored, 
and  he  is  MOW  ;in  iiimaie  ol  the  (Jiielx'i-  laiiiatie  .\>\liitn. 
The  mind  ul'  this  woiiIin'  iiiaii  \\;is  ihoiiLiht  lo  he  of  a  liiLlh 
oialer:  i.Ild  it  is  eert.iili  dial  he  pn.-sessed  ;in  e\ti'l',M\c  I\!H)\V- 
lediie'  ol  ii()t;ili\-  ;ilid  ocoIomn'.  I'imiii  l•e|||;ll•|^s  lh;il  ceiped 
liiin  suhseqiieiid V  to  die  Nsomha-lul  leat  he  jxaduniieii.  ii  is 
sujiposed  that,  at  the  nine  (d'  stardnu'  ;, cross  the  I'iv  ef.  he  was 
thinkiiiLi  <d'  a  parli.-idar  i)t)()k  whudi  he  wi-hed  UMiidaiii.  and 
had  heeii  i(dd  eoiild  lie  |>tir(diased  al  (^iiehee.  lowards  u  hi(di 
place  (uiiallainahle  hv  land;,  he  had  set  his  face.  It  is  w Dtihy 
of  record  that  pool'  .Mc('rav  is  tiie  oniv  man  lliat  escr  cii'--ed 
the  deej)  and  aiiiirx'  S;!iinena\-  on  die  ice,  as  it  is  ne\er  sohdlv 
iVozcn  ;  a,ml  it  is  almost  taa'tain  that  the  leal  he  perlormcd 
can  ne\(a"  he  a^ain  repeated. 

IJiit  lo  retnrn  to  ni\'  pi^-c,ilorial  itanarks.  .Next  lo  die  sal- 
mon, the  ilnest  sportiiiLi-  lish  of  this  reuion  i-^  die  troiil.  ( )|' 
du'se  I  lia\('  seen  two  sj)  'cie-. — die  salimm  and  die  coiiiinoti 
trout.  <)!'  the  t'oriner,  I  Ixdieve  there  is  hut  one  varie'\  .  hut 
that  is  an  e\<'e(,'diniily  line  lish  for  sport,  or  the  lahie,  ami  is 
found  in  the  lower  trihnlarics  of  ihe  St.  Lawrence,  iVi-iii  jixc 
to  lil'icen  pounds.  'JMiey  arc  taken  (diiellv  in  die  sail  water, 
and  possess  a  lla\()r  whitdi  the  trout  of  our  wavUaai  lak's  do 
not.  (  M' tlic  ( oniinon  tr<mt,  I  lia\-e  seen  at  least  six  varji  lies, 
dilleriiiL;'.  however,  only  in  c(dor  ;  for  some  are  almo-t  en- 
tirely while,  olliers  hrown,  some  hliie,  some  ureeii,  some 
hhudv.  and  others  yellow.  'J'liese  are  taken  e\(a'\\vli(M('  in 
the  Si.  Lawrence,  and  in  all  its  trihutaries.  'IMiose  oi'  the 
Saiiueiiay  arc;  tin;  laruesi,  niost  ahiindaiit,  and  of  the  rarest 
quality.  L'p(Ui  tin?  whole,  I  am  imdined  to  set  this  laver 
down  as  allordiiiii-  the  linest  troiil-li>hinu'  that  [  have  eva  r  (  n- 
joyed,  not  wen  excepting-  that  w  hi(di  I  have  exp(M'ienced  at 
tlu3   I'^alls   oC  St.  .Marv,  in   Michigan.      Almost  ev(a'v  Ijav  or 


150 


A  KM  R  TO  THE   RIVER  SAfM  ENAY 


covc  ill  the  SntrncMiav  is  crowdcMl  with  trcMit,  mikI,  ircncrally 
sp(':lkiIlL^  tliP  rocks  upon  wiiifli  voii  liavc  lo  stand  aliord  an 
a!)iiii(!aMco  of  room  to  swiiiL''  :uid  drop  \hv  lly.  Jn  soriic  of 
llic  coves  alluded  to.  I  liave  freciueiitlv  taken  a  dozen  two- 
pound  trout  during'  the  siiioh;  hour  hefore  sunset.  Trout- 
lishiuL;  in  this  reiiifui  jiossesses  a  (diarni  which  the  aniiler  sel- 
dom <'\j)erieiu'es  in  the  rivers  and  lakes  of  the  I  iiited  Slates, 
which  consists  in  his  uncertainty  as  to  the  character  of  his 
prize  hefore  he  has  landed  him,  ior  il  may  he  a  comnum  or 
snhnon  trout,  or  a  rejrular-huilt  salmon,  as  these  fish  all  swim 
in  the  same  water.  It  is  rej)orted  of  a  celehrated  au'jler  of 
Quehec,  that  he  once  spent  a  wec^k  on  the  Kscjuemain,  and 
caj^tured  within  that  time,  seventy  salmon,  and  upwards  of  a 
huiulred  trout.  'J'his  is  a  very  large  story,  hut  I  have  faith 
cnouiih  to  helieve  it  true. 

Ami  now  for  a  few  remarks  upon  the  lish  of  the  lower  St. 
Lawrence  ifenerally.  Cod  are  taken  to  a  very  ureat  extent, 
ami  constitute  an  imp;)i-!;uit  article  of  coii!mer''e.  Herring 
and  maidcerel  are  ahundant  ;  also  th(>  halihut  and  sardine. 
Shad  are  also  tid-Len.hut  not  in  sullicient  (piantities  to  export. 
'j'hc  !o!)ster.  flounder  ami  oyster  are  a.lso  found  in  this  river, 
and,  with  a  lew  unimportant  cxce{)tions,  these  are  the  only 
iish  that  llourish  in  this  j)ortion  of  the  great  river,  'i'he  sea 
bass,  tlu!  striped  hass,  tin,'  blue  lish,  and  the  l)la(d<  lish,  for 
which  1  should  suppose*  these  waters  j)erfecdy  adapletl,  are 
entirely  uid^nown. 


> 


C  11  A  P  T  i:  li     X  V 


Si'iil  liiiiiliiiu' "11  the  St.  Lnwrciiri — 'J'ln-  \\  liiti'  [idi-pdisi'. 


Yd 


Ttiiloii'Htf,  Jidi/. 

Hkkouk  breakfast  tliis  morninir,  I  li:^<l  the  ploasnro  of  tak- 
ing ilflrcn  <'oinnK)ii  irout,  and  iliu  rciiKiiiidcr  of  tlu;  (lav  I 
devoted  to  seal  huntinjr,  'I'liis  animal  is  found  in  izreat  ahiin- 
danee  in  the  St.  Lawrenee,  and  i)y  the  Indians,  and  a  few 
white  people,  is  extensively  hnnteil.  'Inhere  tire  several  vari- 
eties founil  in  these  waters,  and  the  usual  market  pri<'(;  for 
the  oil  and  skin  is  live  dollars.  'I'hey  vary  in  si/e  from  four 
to  eiirht  feet,  and  are  said  to  he  (rood  eatinij;.  Many  j)eo[)lo 
make  them  a  principal  artieh;  of  food  ;  and  while  the  Indians 
use  their  skins  for  many  purposes,  they  also  linlit  their  eai)ins 
with  the  oil.  In  sailinir  the  river,  they  meet  you  at  every 
turn,  and  when  I  first  saw  one,  I  thounht  I  was  looking  uj)on 
a  drowniniif  man  ;  for  they  only  raise  their  heads  out  of 
water,  and  thus  sustain  themselves  with  tlunr  feet,  fins,  pads, 
dippers,  or  whatever  you    mav  eall    them.      Thcv  live  upon 


iish,  and  in  many  of  their  lial)its,  closely  resemhle  tlu;  o\Un'. 
'J'heir  paws  have  live  elaws,  joined  to^'ether  with  a  thick 
skin  ;  they  somewhat  resemble  the  do«r,  and  have  a  bearded 
snout  like  a  cat,  lai-<ro  britrhl  eyes,  and  loni^  sharp  teeth. 
They  are  a  noisy  animal,  and  when  a  number  of  them  are 
suiininiT  themselves  upon  the  sand,  the  screams  they  utter  arc 


1 51! 


A   T(»l  K  TO  TIIK    RI\  I:K  SA(i«  KNAV 


<ln|(  Till   ill  llic  cxircinr — >(»mculi;il   nscmlilili;;  the  ri\   of  rliil- 
(Ircii. 

iMy  i"ii>t  sr:il  ex  pcdilioii  w  ;is  [xiToiiiM'd  in  ('nm|tiiiy  with 
l\\i»  iiimI'i  s.-i(>ii:il  liiiiilci'S.  \\  r  stnricd  iVoiii  fliorc  willi  :i 
v:i\\l  liiid  a  raiKM',  and  iiiadc  iMir  coiirx'  lor  a  ccrlaiii  sjxtt 
ill  llic  St.  Law  rciK'c,  wlicit'  llic  waters  of  tlic  Siiniiciiav  and 
till'  lldod  lidf  caiiic  tdLit'tlicr,  and  cinscd  ;i  tcri'il)!^  comnuiliMii. 
Tlir  (Miioc  led  the  way,  ocriipicd  |)\-  (uic  man,  who  was  sup- 
plii  d  w  itii  a  liai"j)oon,  and  a  loni'  liii<'  ;  nv'IuIc  tiif  oilri'  Imntcr 
and  niy.-cir  canic  np  in  the  roar,  lor  tlic  purpose  of  i-(  :>cninu 
tlic  liaipooncr  in  case  an  accid.'iit  slionid  happen,  and  ;d>o  lor 
the  pnrpose  ol"  shippini:"  die  |»hin(h'r.  'I'he  seal  seems  to  do- 
iiiilit  in  rre(|uentinL>-  the  (lee|>e.:t  water  and  more  tnrl)ulent 
whiil|'0(ds,  and  the  ohin-t  ot'  nsiiui'  a  canoe  is  to  <teal  n|)()ii 
him  in  the  most  siiecessj'nl  inanieer.  \\ C  had  noi  lloated 
ahoiil  tiie  v(\{\v  more  than  twenty  minntes,  hel'ore  a.  larijo 
hla'/k  anima!  made  his  appearance,  ahonl  ti'ii  feel  t'roin  die 
canoe;  hut,  just  as  he  was  on  the  point  of  ijivinir.  the  hunter 
Uirew  his  harpoon,  ami  <iave  him  the  line,  to  whicli  w  ;is  at- 
taidu'd  a  i)iio\-.  'J'he  poor  creature  lli>undered  ahoiit  at  a 
l>reat  rale,  do\('  as  far  as  he  could  towards  the  hotlom,  and 
then  lea[)ed  entirelv  out  ol"  the  water  ;  hut  the  cru(d  spear 
would  not  loosen  its  hold.  Finally,  after  making' everv  ellort 
to  escape,  and  tinuinu;  th(>  surroumlinii"  water  with  a  crimson 
hue,  lie  aaspiHJ  lor  hreath  a  lew  times,  and  sunk  to  the  eiul 
of  the  rope,  (piite  dead.  \V'(!  (heii  pulled  him  to  the  sidi'  of 
the  htiat.  ami  with  a  uall'-hook  secured  him  therein,  and  the 
liunt   was    renewed.       In    this   manner  did   my  companions 


capture  lU)  less  than  three  sea 


Is  hefore  tlie  hoiii'  oi'  noon 


On  one  occasion,  1    noticed  (juito   a  hirtro  nuiidier  of  seals 


sunniui''  themselves  upon 


I  (pertain,  sandy  jxtint  ;  ami  as  I  felt 


an  "  iltdiinu'  palm"  to  ohtain,  with  my  own  hands,  the  male- 
rial  for  a  winter  cap,  I   spent  the  afternoon  in  the  enjoyment 


of  a 


dioot 


hiir  frolic,  all  alone 


1? 


I 


t)orroweu  a  n 


lie  of 


one 


si;  A  I,   HI  \TI\(. 


I  nn 


11 


lit 


|i 


\ 


n|'  my  iVit'ii'ls.  ami.  Ii;t\  imr  passed  o\(r  lo  ilic  saii(l\  |'M»iinit  in 
a  canDc.  |  .-•(■cicirtl  ii.\  M'if  in  ilic  mitl-t  ot'  Mmic  ruck-.,  aiid 
awaited  tht'  iiMiiif.  1  had  n'maimd  (|iii(t  hut  a  shi»n  iiiiic, 
\\h(n  a  hiiiic  hlark  seal  ma(h'  its  appearance.  scfamldiiiLl  Up 
the  head),  w  hd'e  he  kept  a  sharp  h>i)k-<ml  lor  an\lhini;'  that 
miulit  do  htm  harm.  I  aihiiired  the  apparent  intelhjcnce  m 
the  creatiire.  as  he  (h'aii'^f  d  his  (dumsv  and  h'Llh'Ss  hod\  aloiin 
ihe  sji'oiind.  and  ahnost  i( uretled  that  he  was  diHomd  to  die, 
i'rne  to  my  riii  cidims  iri'nre,  howcser.  I  linalK'  (amchided 
lo  h'ave  him  nnmolesied  m-  the  present,  hopini^  that  he  woidd 
soon  he  a(a-omp'anied  h\-  one  o|'  his  leUow-seals.  and  tliat  I 
shiudd  ha\'.'  a  (dianei  of  killini;'  a  pair.  I  \va<  not  di>ap- 
p(Mnted.  and  von  will  iherelore  please  con>ider  mc  in  lidl 
Aiew  of  one  ot  the  lini-l  mark^  imaiiinahle,  ami  in  the  atti- 
tude oi'  liriiiL:.  ('ra(dv  \\v\\\  the  ride,  hnl  my  shot  had  indv 
the  ell'ect  of  lemporarilv  roii>inii'  ihe  animals,  and  I  jiroceeded 
to  reloail  inv  uiiii,  w'eiidi  ;an;i  at  the  eanse  of  m\'  nii>.-inii,  and 
I'eelinn'  somewhat  dissatislied  with  matters  and  thin^^s  in  li^'c- 
ncral.  Aii'aiii  M'as  it  my  privileiic  to  tire,  and  1  saw  a  ^tiek 
ll\'  into    the    .)ir   ahout    tldrtv    I'eel    on    liu'    iel'l   ot    m\    iiame. 


'J'l 


le    animals    were,   (d'   course,    not    at    all    injtired,    I  •;!    jiist 


ciioiiiih  tViuhleiied  to  inrn  iheir  t'aces   tow  ards  the  \\:\\y  v.  into 


whudi  tliev  snoriiv  phiiuretl,  ,;ml  taitii-ely  disappeared. 


I 


re 


turned  to  my  iovliiinirs,  lionestly  told  my  story,  and  was 
lauiihed  at  tor  mv  pa.ns  and  had  liiidv.  It  so  happeneij.  how- 
e\('r,  thai  lh(;  owma'  ol  ihe  L>nn  imaLiined  thai  soinethinii 
miLihl    he    the    matter   witii    the    thiiii!',   and,  on   examination, 

kc'd 


I'onnd  that  one  of  tlie  siLiht.-^  had  heen  aecideiitadly  kno( 
t'rom  its  oriiiinal  j)o^iti'.i!,  Avdrudi  eircnmslance  had  heen  llic 
''  cause  ol'  mv  ;.!iinii>ii  f '  a.tid,  ihouii'h  it  restored  to  me  my 
•rood  name  as  a  maiksman,  it  atlorchal  me  hnl  little  salislac- 
lion. 

Hilt,  dial  mv  paper  ahonts(>als  may  1)0  wortli  sealinir,  I  will 
ffivo  von  lh(!  hisiorv  of  an  ineiduiit  which   illustrates   the  sa- 


1 51 


A   TC.rR    TO   TTIF    KIVKR  SAOrKXAV. 


irncitv  ol'iiii  Indinn  in  UilliiiL'"  iiis  l'';iiii('.  A  .Mik-ni;ik  liimtcr. 
with  !  IS  laiiiily.  Ii:ul  i-cmcIkmI  the  shore  of  tin'  St.  Lawrciico, 
lnmL''i'V,  iind  short  of  ninmunitioii.  On  :i  lartro  sand-hank 
which  hiy  hflorc  him.  at  a  time  when  the  tide  was  h)\v,  he 
discovered  an  innnensc;  nntnher  of  seals.  Ife  waited  for  the 
ti(h'  to  How,  ami  a<jain  to  ehh.  ami  as  soon  as  the  sand  ap- 
peared ahove  the  water,  he  hastem'd  to  the  dry  |)oint  in  his 
cnnoe.  carryinir  onlv  a  hatcdu't  as  a  weaj)on.  On  this  spot 
lie  inimediatelv  dnt:  :i  Inde.  into  which  he  crept,  and  covered 
liimsell'  with  a  hlaidcel.  lie  then  commenced  ntteriniT  a  cry 
in  imitation  of  the  seal,  and  in  a  short  time  had  collected 
ahont  him  a  verv  lar^e  mimher  of  those  animals,  lie  waited 
patientiv  lor  the  tide  to  retire  so  far  that  the  animals  wonid  have 
to  travel  at  least  a  mile  h\'  land  hefore  reachiiiir  th(>  water;  and, 
when  th(>  wished  for  moment  arrived,  lie  snddenlv  fell  npon 
the  allViuhled  mullitude.  ami  with  his  tomahawk,  succeeded  in 
slanixhierinL''  upwards  of  one  hundred.  To  manv,  this  may 
n])pear  to  he  an  improhahle  storv,  hut  when  it  is  rememl)ered 
that  this  amphihious  animal  is  an  exceedino;Iv  slow  land  tra- 
veller, it  will  he  readily  helieved.  The  manner  in  which  our 
liunler  imuiaiied  to  ^ave  his  o-ame,  \\  as  to  tie  them  toiicther 
with  hark,  and  when  the  tide  rose  tow  them  to  the  main 
shore. 

Since  I  have  hroujrln  mv  r(>ader  upon  the  waters  of  the  St. 
liawrence,  1  will  not  permit  him  to  no  ashore  until  I  have 
ifiven  him  an  account  of  another  iidiahiiant  ol'  tin 


ne  deep  w 


hi(d 


IS  lound  m  very  areat  ahundance.  not  only  m  this  river,  hut 
also  in  the  Sagiieiiay.  1  allude  to  the  white  porjioise.  The 
shape  of  this  creature  is  similar  to  that  of  the  whale,  thouuh  of 
a  pure  white  color,  and  usuallv  only  ahoiit  fifteen  leei  in 
length.  They  are  exceedingly  fat,  and  yield  an  oil  of  the 
best  (lualilv,  while  the  skin  is  ca|)ahle  of  heiiiii'  turned  iFito 
durable  lealluM'.  They  are  extensively  used  as  an  articU'  oi' 
food;   the  fiiis  and  tail,  when  pickled,  are  considered  a  deli- 


THE   WIIITF,   PORPOISi;, 


1    ■•  ^ 


icr 


nil 


vo 


('II 


l)Ut 


cacv;  :iii(l  their  vnliic  is  about  twciilv-livc  dollars  a-j)ii'(*(>. 
'J'licy  arc  lar  froiii  hriiirr  a  shy  fish;  and,  w  Ihmi  sailiiio  ahoui 
our  vessel  in  lari^e  nunihers,  as  is  ol'ten  the  case.tliev  present 
a  heaulilul  :;nd  unique  appearance.  For  talvin^;'  this  lish,  the 
people  of  this  rcirion  have  two  methods.  The  lirst  is  to  use 
a  boat  with  a  whit(^  bottom,  behind  whiidi  the  tisherman 
tows  a  small  wooden  porixtisc,  whicdi  is  painttni  a  darlv  slate 
color,  in  imitation  of  the  vouhl;'  ot'  the  species.  With  these 
lures  the  por[)oise  is  often  brouiiht  into  the  immediate  \icinit\' 
of  the  harpoon,  which  is  invariahlv  throw  n  w  ilh  fatal  j)reci- 
sion.  In  this  manner  an  expert  man  will  often  tak(>  three; 
or  four  line  ))ri/cs  in  a  day.  Another  mode  for  takiuLT  these 
crea!ur(>s  is  hv  fencinn"  them  in.  It  ai)pears  that  it  is  cus- 
lomarv  for  this  iish  to  wamler  over  the  sand  bars,  ai  hii^h 
water,  tor  the  i)urpose  of  feedinL^  Prolitinir  bv  this  know- 
ledir(\  the  lishermen  enidose  one  of  th(>  saudv  rcM  IV.  with  |)oles 
set  about  threes  feet  aj)art,  and  sometimes  eoverinij  a  s((uare 
mile,  'i'hev  leave  an  approi)riate  opcMiinir  for  tln^  porpois(>s, 
whi(di  are  sur(>  to  enter  at  hiuh  water,  a.nd,  (twinil'  ^<>  their 
timiditv,  thev  are  kept  confined  bv  the  slender  barricn"  until 
the  tide  ebbs,  when  tlic\  are  dcstroveil  in  <ir(\it  nund)ers  with 
very  little  tr(Mible.  It  is  rcjiortcd  that  a  party  of  lishermen, 
some  idnctv  nulcs   abo\('  tlu!   SajiiKMitiv,  once  took  oiu'    hun- 


dred 


and    l(*rt\'  porpoises  at   one  \\{\v ;   and  it    is  also  asset 


iU 


■ted 


that    in    dixidiiiL''   tiie    spoil    the    lishernuMi 


had 


a  xcrv  bitter 


quarrel,  since    whi(di    time,  as   the  story   i(oes,   not    a 
porpoise  has  ever  been  taken  on  the  shoal  in  quef^tioti, 


iiniile 


he 


ol 


m 


no 


to 


ol 


cii  Ap'i'i:  \i  X  vr 


'j'ii.^  ]•• 


^^lll!ll;lll.\   liiili;iii~ 


Ltiiir;'.  mr. 


'r.ni, 


lil'SlU  , 


./,■//,/. 


TiTr,  vast  rcnioii  of  coimlrv  lyiiiu'  on  llir  hoimIi  shore  ot' 
Hit'  (luir  oi"  St.  liawrciu'c,  and  cMciKliiia'  to  the  eastward  ol' 
the  Saoaieiiav  as  far  as  Aewfoe.iKihiiKl,  is  i>('iierallv  known 
iinch'!'  the  name  o!"  Laljrador.  ll  is  an  exe(cdiiinlv  v.  ihl  and 
desohile  reuion,  and,  exeeptir.ir  an  occasional  fishing  handet 
or  a  missionary  station  hcdoniiinu"  to    the    worthx'  Moimn  lans. 


Its  oidv  in 


haldt: 


ar 


e  Indians.      ()['  tliese  the  nioi'e  I'ainous 


trihes  are  the  lu'd  Indians,  (now  ahnost  extinct,)  the  l!iintini^ 
Indians,  tii(>  Mic-.Maks,  and  the  J')s(jni!nanx.  The  hiiter  na- 
tion is  hy  far  the  most  nunn'rous,  and  it  is  said  that  their 
swav  even  ext(Mids  to  the  coasts  ol'  Hudson's  liav.  'J'hev 
are,  at  the  sain(!  time,  the  wilth'st  and  most   rnde   iniiahiiants 


ol  this  wilderness,  and,  ni  apjiearaiice,  as  well  as  manners 
and  customs,  (dosely  resemhle  the  inhabitants  o("  (Ji'ci  nhmd. 
During'  on(>  of  my  nautii-al  expeditions  down  the  Si.  I^aw- 
rcnce,  I  (dianced  to  he  wind-hound  lor  a  couple  of  da\  s  at 
the    nu)uth   ol"  the    nameU^ss  river  on  the  north  shor 


e.  w  lier(> 


I  foniul  a  small  encampment  ol"  Msquimaux  Indian-.  'JMie 
priiH'ipal  man  of  the  parly  was  exceedinuly  a'jed,  and  tlie 
only  oiu'  who  could  convev  his  thoui>hts  in  any  olli.r  lan- 
jrua*>(!  than  his  own.      He  iiad  minuled  much  with  the  I'rench 


V 


^'ii--tr;i(|(.rs    of  il 


T"K   Ks.,rnrA.  Y  IXdjaxs. 


('••IS 


-'■■•N.::::;::  ;■;::::' ■••:.'-''- -i^i..-.., . 


"'     ""-^    Uood     old 


IT)? 


)|    the 


"'II'     in]\irii,>  SJ,,„,       I    , 

r    ll„ „ '       ''■•      '  !"■  --"I'M:,,,,.,. 


'"■"'■'::::'■'■ ""-■' ..M-„i';;„i:: 


^'""■'''  '"■  - ,„,,„,,„, ;,;  "  I'"'-!"- ."  n.,.,„.,, ., 

•■""J  '""  '"■  ■■'">■  l-.'"-nV„|,„.  ,',,,,„  ^^      '   '"  "'"  "■■"'""  ■■'■'  !:'<-,., 
-'^'•''^^^^^^^^^^^^ 

•■'■^ ''''■"—.(■  ,i„.  .,„■;'";■'■'■"■"'-'— „„ ,,„,. 


i;i\c 


'^'''0    .......    ,:,;■■'     J^''^"'"    '""".in    iH.;Hl,.n    ,|;n-kn,.s 


?<"'"'f;illv    of    ||.-.   ,.,,..  ,    .  '"'■I'lll!  r     ill);,, 

"  ^ '     "1  ;i   >lll)rr.ii,.    I>..;.. 


''''■■':::t:'*;:;!::;:.:,;';!:;:r''"',; --'^^'.-- 

>•'"""-    •■'"•    ...Hi-    ,„   „„'„,'■"""•  ''>'  ""■   "■ "■      Tl„.i,. 

'"■"""■'■   "".'^n,.!,!,..   ,,„, 

''■"■'■     ■'•I'-.- iu-„„.i,,„,  ,„„,''"    •"■■'■'■•   -l-l,    ,1,,.,  ,.„„„„ 
^-'  — .•    a   n,.„i..    .,.  '''■■''■^'",'-  '""■""■"■  f"-""'^— 

'■"""   -^'■'ll„.  „,„.|,|   ,„,. '    ..  /'    '>■       ""■  '"-.-I  m:„,  „.|,„ 

'"■'''"^    "I-.   l.nn,.;.      ,„,'         :'"-^   ""^""■>-   -'   <-f"l.ll..o.,. 


■'■'■""'    •■""'    ''-i"^-.  o„    a  •..,„.,., 


i"'-l-"l    «\'   :.   ll„H-,.,.    „.),„,j 


I   ur()(,j),.(|    „^ 


'■'''■taiii    o 


''<''iNi(»ii, 


I'l"      (JfJ(i     ui'     Il 


ccaiiK?   cli;iijn,.(j 


1.^    ;ir 


mU)  a  oirj 


\')H 


A  ToiR  TO  rin.  Ri\r,R  sachknav. 


with  llowiiiLT  li:iii",  who  hrcainc  iiis  j)layiii:itc.  and  aricrwards 
his  wile,  and  wa.s  the  molh.cr  of  all  li\inii".  'I'hcv  hc!ic\c  in 
a  lH'a\cn  and  a  hell,  and  (•()nsi(h'r  thai  the  road  to  the  lornicr 
i.s  rnoticd  and  i'o(d\y,  and  that  to  the  latter,  level,  and  coxered 
wilh  iirass.  'I'heir  ideas  ol"  astrononu'  are  peculiar,  lor  tlie\' 
consider  the  >\\n,  nuton  and  stars  as  so  many  ol"  their  an- 
cestor.", wlio  have,  lor  a  areal  variety  ol  reasons,  heeii  iii'ied 
to  the  ski(>s,  and  hecome  celestial  hodii's.  In  accounlinn'  lor 
the  two  iornier,  they  relaie  that  there  was  once  a,  super!) 
festival  i^iven  hv  the  Escpiiinanx,  in  a  Lilorions  snow-paiac(; 
of  the  norlh,  where  were  assemhled  all  the  youiiu'  ni"n  ;ind 
maidens  of  the  laiul.  Amonn'  them  was  a  remarkaltly  Lrave 
youth,  who  was  in  love  with  an  exceedinii'ly  heautilul  uiri. 
She,  however,  did  not  rt'ciprocato  this  attachment,  and  en- 
deavored, hv  all  the  means  in  her  power,  to  esca()e  I'roni  his 
car(!sses.  '1\»  accomplish  this  eml,  slu^  called  upon  the  (Jreal, 
Sj)irit  to  nivc  her  a  pair  of  wini^s  ;  and,  liaviuir  received  them, 
she  llew  into  tiie  air.  and  became  the  moon.  The  youth  also 
endeavored  lo  obtain  a  pair  ol'  win^s,  ami,  after  many  im)nlhs, 
finally  succi-eded  ;  and,  on  ;iscendinu"  to  the  sky,  he  became 
the  sun.  TIk!  moon,  they  say,  has  a  dwellin<i-j)lac(!  in  the 
west,  and  the  sun  another  in  the  far  east.      They  account  for 


iiieiii,  caiiMiii^  ii  neiiHiuuni.'s  uoim;,  wmie   uiu   uuiiuai   \ven.;  so 

anj^ry  that  their  eyes  Hashed  lire.  J{ain,  they  say,  comes 
from  a  river  in  the  skies,  whiidi,  I'roiu  the  jjireat  nund)er  ol 
people  who  sonn^times  bathe  in  it,  overllows  its  baidvs,  and 
thus  et)mes  to  the  earth  in  showers. 

When  one  of  their  friends  has  departed  this  life,  they  take 
all  his  property  and  scatter  it  upon  the  ground,  outside  of  his 
cabin,  to  be  purified  by  the  air;  but  in  the  evening,  they  col- 
lect  it   together  again,  and  bury  it  by  the  side  of  his  grave. 


INDIAN'  TRADITIONS. 


ir)9 


llO 


hn 


5() 


lol 


IS 


h 


'J'hcy  think  it  wroiin-  for  ilic  nicn  lo  mourn  tor  llicir  tViciids, 
and  coiisidrr  tlicinsclvcs  dctilcd  it'  llicv  lia[)[)('ii  to  toiiidi  the 
bodv  ol"  the  dt'ccascd,  and  the  individual  who  n>nad\'  pcr- 
I'ornis  tho  ollicc  of  nndt'rtakcr,  is  consiiha'cd  unch-an  tor  many 
(lavs  after  inltillinu  his  duly.  The  women  do  all  ihc  wailinir 
and  W(M'|iinu',  and  diirinn'  their  moiirnini:  season,  whudi  cor- 
responds with  the  fame  (d'  the  deceased,  they  abstain  t'roni 
I'ood,  wear  iheir  hair  in  ureal  disorder,  and  retrain  troin  e\'erv 
ablulioii.  When  a  friendless  man  dies,  his  hodv  is  let'l  upon 
the  hills  to  decay,  as  if  lu;  had  been  a  beast.  When  their 
children  die,  they  bury  the  body  of  a  dead  doir  in  the  same 
U;ra\t',  thai  the  child  may  have  a  uuide  in  his  pa!liwa\'  lo  an 
unknown  land,  to  whi(di  they  suppose  all  (diildreii  no. 

I'olvuainy,  as  such,  amonu'  the  ]']s([uimaiix,  is  practised 
onlv  to  a  limiteil  extent;  hut  married  men  ami  women  arc 
not  ()ver-scru[)iilous  in  ineirloM'  all'airs.  (nmarried  women, 
however,  observe  the  rules  t)l"  modesty  with  [)i'culiar  care, 
and  the  maiden  who  sufVcu's  herself  to  be  betrayed,  is  looked 
upon  with  infamv.  When  a  voiiiiu-  man  wishes  to  marrv, 
he  lirsl  settles  the  matter  with  his  inteiuled,  and  then,  havini>' 


isked  and  t)blained  her  father's  permission,  he  sends  two  o 


Id 


W(Mn( 


n    to    brinu"    the    ladv  to   hi 


s  lodire,  and    lliev  are  consi- 


dered one.      'I'lie  Msipiimaux  mother  is  loud  of  her  (diildren, 


uul    never   chastises    iliem    lor   anv   olhmcc 


in 


V 


111  111  re  n    are 


tau«iht    to    be   dutiftd   to   their  parents,  and  until  tluiv  marry 
thcv  always  continue  under  the  paternal  roof. 

The  amusements  of  the  l']s(piimaux  do  not  dilfer,  materi- 


dlv,  from  those;  of  llu;  Indian  tribes  <ren(M'allv. 


T 


!ie  men  are 


foiul  of  daneinj^,  playin<r  ball,  and  a  species  of  dice  iiame, 
while  the  women  know  of  no  recreation  Inil  that  of  danchi;^ 
and  s-ingini^. 

And  thus  endcHli  my  mite  of  information  respectiuir  one  of 
llie  most  extensive  aboriginal  nations  of  the  far  north. 


(HA  rj'  i:  \i    X  V  1 1 


Till'  I  l;iliil;iii  fl    ( '.•M!;ii 


4 


Stnck  ihiliiiii-  iiiv  i;i.-t    ('Ii;ip1('r    Irom    the    S;iiiucii;iy.  I  iinvi; 
^'ompliMcd  my  pil'yiiiii.'ijo  tliroimli  Lnwci- Caiiaila  :  iml  Ixdurc 
icaviiiL;"    ill*'    i)i'o\  iiirc.  1  w  ill    !.ii\c    you    llic   result  of  my  oh- 
scfvaiinii-:  r(\si)('('tiiiu  some  oi"  its  [tcop!','.      Tlirsc-  arc  (li\  iilcd 
into  liu'cc   (.'las-cs — the  (li'sccndaiits  of  \]\v    Frciicli  colonists, 
commonly  called   "  llalntans."  the    liritisli   selllei,-.   and    t!\e 
Indian    trilx'S.      'J'lie   "  IJalMtuns."    of    wlioni    I    am    now    to 
speak,  are    the   mo:-t    ninncrons.  and.    so  })ei'uliar  in  their  ap- 
pearance ana!  manners,  as  to  a.ttrac!  the  particular  attention  oi' 
iravidlers.      The  nnai  are  U:^ually  tall  and  slender,  o!'  sinewy 
build,  ;ind  with  adark-e.rown  complexion  :  the  oiids  are  hlaek- 
<'^•ed,  and  disp.os(>(i  to  he  !)c;;i!td'ul,  while  the  women    ar(^   al- 
ways dumpv.  hut    iiooil-looUiii:.:'.      'J'heir  dress    is  .-imilar   lo 
that  of  the  l''reu(di  pea.sanlry:  llie  men  wear  the  old-l'ashioiU'd 
(•(fjiof,  ow  duir  heads  every  \arieiy  of  lantaslic  ca])>  and  hats, 
and,  on  ;!ieir  i'eet,  a  ne.)cc:',M;)i  made  of  cow-hide  :  liic  \\()men 
Mcar   jaidu'ts  or  mantelets,  w  lucli   are  made  of  hri:.;hi  cohjrs, 
and.  Oil    their   heads,  <  ither  .a   c;ip  or  straw  hat,  made  in   the 
oin^v-fa.shion.      Oceasionaliv,  ihev  make    an  ellorl  lo  imitate 
the  Mnulish  in  their  dress,  and,  at  such  times,  invarialdy  aj)- 
j)ear  ridiculous.      As  a  class  lliuy  are  devoled,  p'rintdi)ally,  lo 


THE   HAniTANS. 


161 


i\-.  1  liiiVi: 
ml  holurc 
)!'  my  o^- 
■r  tli\i(l("-l 

.    ;ui(i    tl\(' 

llii'ir  ;ip- 

llcntioii  oi 

»!'  .-iiicwy 

urc  l)l;H'k- 

h!  Ill  liar  t!) 
-f;i^hiniic(i 
iul  liats, 
,!u'  womon 

ii  coloi'r-. 
laili'  ill   tlie 

lit  iinitiile 
ivi.:il)ly  ap- 

cipally,  to 


ajTriciilluro  ;  \m[  as  their  opportunities  for  ohlainiiiLj  instruc- 
tion arc  cxocMHlinnly  liniitcd,  their  knowU'dire  of  the  art  of 
hnshandrv  is  precisely  what  it  was  one  huiuired  years  aiio. 
They  seem  to  bo  entirely  d(!stitute  of  enterprise,  .ind  tread 
in  the  beaten  steps  of  their  fathers.  Tliey  who  live  in  the 
vicinity  of  Montreal  and  Quebec,  frenerally  supply  those  mar- 
kets with  vetretables;  but  those  who  reside  in  the  more  ob- 
S(nirc  parts,  seem  to  be  quite  satisfied  if  th(?y  can  only  ma- 
nage to  raise  enoui^h  olf  their  farms  for  the  pnrpose  of  carry- 
ing them  through  the  yc^ir.  They  are  partial  to  rye  bread, 
and  never  consider  it  in  a  cooking  condition  until  it  has  been 
soured  by  age;  and  their  standard  dish,  which  they  make  use 
of  on  all  occasions,  is  a  plain  pea  soup.  The  cons(!quence  is. 
th(5  pea  is  extensively  cultivated.  Von  seldom  lind  a  farmer 
who  is  so  poor  as  not  to  be  able  to  sell  from  live  lo  tifly 
bushels  of  wheat,  and  this  article  he  appropriates  to  tin;  same 
use  that  most  people  do  their  money.  Their  plough  is  dis- 
tinguished for  its  rudeness,  and  their  farming  implements, 
generally,  would  not  be  creditable  even  to  a  barbarous  people. 
If  an  imlividual  happens  to  have  a  stony  field,  the  idea  does 
not  enter  his  head  that  he  might  build  a  fence  with  those  very 
stones,  and  the  consequence  is,  that  he  piles  them  in  one  im- 
mense heap,  in  the  centre  of  the  lield,  and  draws  liis  rails  a 
distance,  perhaps,  of  two  miles.  But  with  all  their  ignorance 
of  agriculture,  the  inhabitants  are  sutliciently  careful  to  make 
their  little  farms  yitdd  them  all  the  necessaries  they  require, 
particularly  their  clothing  and  shoes,  their  candles,  soap,  and 
sugar.  There  are  but  few  professional  mechanics  among 
them,  and  the  dwelling  of  the  peasant  is  almost  invariably 
the  production  of  his  own  individual  labor.  Tiieir  houses 
are  distinguished  for  pictorial  beauty,  always  one  story  high, 
and,  generally,  neatly  white-washed.  Their  cattle  are  small, 
and,  owing  to  their  neglect  in  feeding  and  protecting  them, 
are  exceedingly  poor.  Their  horses  are  nothing  but  ponies, 
11 


162 


A  TOUR  TO  THE  RIVER  SAGUENAY. 


but  distinguished  for  their  toughness.  The  Habitans  are 
partial  to  the  luxury  of  riding,  and  their  common  vehicle  is 
a  rough  two-wheeled  cart,  and,  occasionally,  a  calash. 

The  establishment  which  I  employed  for  travelling  in  the 
settled  parts  of  Canada,  was  a  fair  sj)ecimcn  of  the  class. 
The  cost  of  the  horse  (four  feet  and  a  half  liigh),  was  twenty 
dollars,  and  the  cart  (made  entirely  of  wood),  was  four  dol- 
lars.— My  coachman  was  a  Ilabitan,  and,  in  drivinir  over  a 
hilly  road,  on  a  certain  day,  I  had  a  line  opportunity  for 
studying  the  conflicting  traits  of  character  which  distinguish 
the  race.  Whenever  he  wanted  his  horse  to  go  fast,  he 
pulled  the  reins  with  all  his  might,  and  continued  to  utter  a 
succession  of  horrible  yells.  lie  invariably  ran  his  animal 
up  the  hill,  and  deliberately  walked  him  down.  When  angry 
at  his  unoffending  beast,  he  showered  upon  his  head  a  variety 
of  oaths,  which  might  be  translated  as  follows  :  infernal  hog, 
black  toad,  and  hellish  dog  ;  and  yet  when  the  animal  was 
about  to  drop  to  the  ground  from  fatigue  and  heat,  he  would 
caress  him,  and  do  everything  in  his  power  to  restore  the 
animal,  and  ease  his  own  conscience.  I  first  employed  this 
man  to  bring  me  to  this  place,  and  said  nothing  about  con- 
tinuing my  journey.  On  ascertaining,  however,  that  I  was 
bound  further  down  the  St.  Lawrence,  he  volunteered  his 
services,  and  I  employed  him,  although  he  had  informed  his 
wife  that  he  would  positively  return  on  the  night  of  the  day 
he  left  her.  I  retained  him  in  my  employ  for  two  days,  and 
was  particularly  struck  with  the  anxiety  he  manifested  con- 
cerning the  disappointment  of  his  wife.  He  alluded  to  the 
impropriety  of  his  conduct  at  least  a  dozen  times,  and  uc  ually 
added,  "  But  you  give  me  plenty  money  (it  was  only  six  dol- 
lars for  taking  me  forty  miles),  and  I  loill  buy  something 
pretty  for  my  icife,  which  will  make  her  very  glad — I  guess 
she  won't  be  sorry."  I  asked  him  what  it  was  that  he  in- 
tended to  purchase,  and  his  answer  was,  "  some  ribbon,  a 


1 


i  are 
rle  is 

II  the 
class, 
venty 
r  dol- 
iver  a 
ty  for 
iguish 
St,  he 
itter  a 
animal 
angry 
variety 
(I  hog, 
al  was 
would 
ire  the 
:d  this 
It  con- 
I  was 
cd  his 
led  his 
le  day 
s,  and 
1  con- 
to  the 
|u'ually 
ix  dol- 
lething 
guess 
Ihe  in- 
IboUt  a 


THE  HABITANS. 


1G3 


pair  of  scissors,  with  some  noodles,  and  a  calico  dross."  Who 
can  deny  that  it  is  pleasant  to  study  the  sunshine  of  the 
human  heart  "  bv  which  we  live?" 

The  Ilabitans  profess  the  Roman  Catholic  relij^ion  with 
much  zeal.  Among  them,  I  believe,  may  be  found  many 
worthy  Christians;  but  they  manifest  their  religious  devo- 
tion in  many  peculiar  ways.  They  are  fond  of  social  inter- 
course, and  spend  a  goodly  portion  of  their  time  in  visiting 
each  other.  'I'hey  reluctanUy  establish  themselves  beyond  the 
sound  of  a  chapel  bell,  and  I  positively  believe  that  they  spend 
more  than  hah'  of  their  lime  in  performing  mass  and  horse 
racing.  The  Sabbath  is  their  great  holiday,  and  always  de- 
cidedly the  noisiest  day  in  the  week.  Their  general  deport- 
ment, however,  is  inoflensive,  and  often  highly  praiseworthy. 
They  are  seldom  guilty  of  committing  atrocious  crimes,  and 
do  not  often  engage  in  the  personal  conflicts  wiiich  are  so 
prevalent  in  the  United  States.  They  treat  all  men  with 
kindness,  and  in  their  language  and  manners,  are  remarkably 
polite.  The  little  girl,  playing  with  lier  doll  in  her  father's 
door,  would  think  her  conduct  highly  improper  should  she 
omit  to  drop  you  a  courtesy  as  you  passed  along;  and  even 
the  rude  boy,  when  playing  ball,  or  driving  his  team,  inva- 
riably takes  olT  his  hat  to  salute  the  traveller. 

The  Ilabitans  are  particularly  fond  of  the  river  St.  Law- 
rence, and  their  settlements  extend  from  Montreal,  about  two 
hundred  miles  along  the  river  on  the  north  shore,  and  j)erhaps 
three  hundred  and  fifty  miles  on  the  southern  shore.  Their 
principal  roads  run  parallel  with  the  river;  are  about  half  a 
mile  apart,  and,  generally,  completely  lined  with  rural  dwell- 
ings. 

'I'he  political  opinions  of  the  Ilabitans  are  extremely  liberal, 
and  not  much  in  accordance  with  the  spirit  of  ('anadian  in- 
stitutions. They  hale  England  by  nature,  and  the  advice  of 
their  priesthood,  and  scruple  not   to  declare  themselves  ac- 


'li 


I 


164 


A  TOUR  TO  THE  RIVER  SAGUENAY. 


tually  in  love  with  what  they  call  the  American  Government. 
They  complain  that  Englishmen  treat  them  as  it'  they  were 
slaves,  while  the  people  of  the  United  States  always  hail  them 
as  brothers.  They  are  an  unlettered  race,  but  believe  that 
their  condition  would  be  much  hapj  ier  were  they  the  subjects 
of  a  President,  instead  of  a  Gliieen.  That  is  a  matter  I  con- 
sider questionable. 


1 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 


The  Grand  IVirtago  into  New  Brunswick — Lake  Tiini.scouta — The  Mada- 

waska  river. 


On  the  Maihwaskn,  July. 

The  traveller  who  woiiUl  go  from  Quebec  to  Halifax  by 
the  recently  eslablished  government  route,  will  have  to  take 
a  steamer  for  one  hundred  and  twenty  miles  down  the  great 
river,  and  cross  the  Grand  Portage  road,  which  commences  at 
the  river,  Du  Loup,  and  extends  to  lake  Timiscouta,  a  distance 
of  thirty-six  miles. 

With  the  village  of  Du  liOup  1  was  well  pleased.  It  con- 
tains about  twelve  hundred  inhabitants,  and  a  more  general 
mixture  of  English,  Scotch  and  French  than  is  usually  found 
in  the  smaller  towns  of  Canada.  The  place  contains  an 
Episcopal  church,  which  must  be  looked  upon  as  a  curiosity 
in  this  Roman  Catholic  country,  for  it  is  the  only  one,  I 
believe,  found  eastward  of  Quebec.  The  situation  of  the  vil- 
lage is  romantic  to  an  uncommon  degree.  It  commands  an 
extensive  prospect  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  which  is  here  up- 
wards of  twenty  miles  wide,  and  bounded,  on  the  opposite 
side,  by  a  multitude  of  rugged  mountains.  The  river  is  stud- 
ded with  islands;  and  ship'<  are  constantly  passing  hither 
and  thitherover  the  broad  expanse;  and  when,  from  thcirgreat 
distance,  all  these  objects  are  constantly  enveloped  in  a  gauze- 


166 


A  TOl'R  TO  THE   RIVER  SACJIENAV 


like  atinosphrro,  there  is  a  magic  innucnco  in  the  scenery.    The 
princi|):il   attraction  is    a  water-fall,  about   a  mile  in  the   rear 


.f  tl 


.f  th( 


(I   and 


01  me  village.  At  this  })oint  tlie  waters  ot  the  rapid  and 
beautiful  I)u  Loup  dance  joyously  over  a  rocky  bed,  until 
they  reach  a  jiicturesque  precipice  of  j)erhaps  eighty  or  a  hun- 
dred feet,  over  which  they  dash  in  a  sheet  of  foam,  and,  after 
forming  an  extensive  and  shadowy  pool,  glide  onward, 
through  a  pleasant  meadow,  until  they  mingle  with  the  waters 
of  the  St.  Lawrence.  Ihit,  as  I  intend  to  take  you  over 
tlie  Grand  Portage,  it  is  time  that  we  should  be  off.  'J'lie  first 
ten  miles  of  this  road  are  dotted  with  the  box-look iuir  houses 
of  the  Canadian  peasantry  ;  but  the  rest  of  the  route  leads  you 
up  mountains  and  down  valleys  as  wild  and  desolate  as  when 
first  created.  The  principal  trees  of  the  forest  are  pine, 
spruce  and  hemlock,  and  the  foundation  of  the  country  seems 
to  be  granite.  This  region  is  watered  by  many  sparkling 
streams,  which  contain  trout  in  great  abundance.  'J'he  only 
curiosity  on  tlie  road  is  of  a  geological  character,  and  struck 
me  as  something  remarkable.  Crossing  the  road,  and  run- 
ning in  a  northerly  direction,  and  extending  to  the  width  of 
about  two  miles,  is  a  singular  bed  of  granite  boulders.  The 
rocks  are  of  every  size  and  form,  and  while,  from  a  portion 
of  them,  rises  a  scanty  vegetation,  other  portions  are  destitute 
of  even  the  common  moss.  In  looking  upon  this  region,  the 
idea  struck  me  that  I  was  passing  through  the  bed  of  what  once 
was  a  mightv  river,  but  whose  fountains  have  become  forever 
dry.  This  is  only  one,  however,  of  the  unnumbered  wonders 
of  the  world  which  are  constantly  appearing  to  puzzle  the 
phdosophy  of  man.  In  passing  over  the  Grand  Portage,  the 
traveller  has  to  resort  to  a  conveyance  which  j)resents  a 
striking  contrast  with  the  usual  national  works  of  her  lady- 
ship, the  Queen.  It  is  the  same  establishment  which  con- 
veys the  Royal  Mail  from  Quebec  to  Halifax,  and  consists 
of  a  common  Canadian  cart,  a  miserable  Canadian  pony, 


< 


A 


h 


LAKE  TIMISCOITA. 


107 


The 
roar 
and 
until 
iliun- 
after 

ward, 
waters 

over 

c  first 

lOUSCS 

Is  you 

when 

pine, 
r?ecins 
irklini^ 

e  only 
struck, 
d  run- 
lidlh  of 
The 
ortion 
siitute 
)n, the 
it  once 
orever 
nders 
le  the 
lire,  the 
Vnts    a 
hidy- 
li  con- 
Ion  sis  ts 
pony, 


•■.! 


i 


and  a  vet  more  inis<  rahlo  Canadian  driver.  Such  is  the  wav 
lliey  order  lliings  in  Ca-iada,  wliich,  I  fancy,  is  not  exactly 
the  way  Uii.y  do  in  ^' ranee.  The  (»rand  Portage  road  itself 
is  all  that  one  could  ih  sire,  and  as  there  is  a  i^ood  deal  of 
summer  and  winter  travelling  upon  it,  it  is  surprisjui;  that 
the  (Jovcrnment  caniiot  alford  a  more;  comforlahlc  convryancc. 
Hut  this  recently  "  Disputeil  'J'erritory,"  owin<r  to  nohody's 
fault  hut  the  actual  settlers,  seems  to  he  destitute  of  every- 
thiuir  desirahle,  and  I  know  not  hut  we  ouL^it  to  rejoice;  that 
Lord  Asjihurton  concluded  the  late  treaty  in  the  manner  he 
did. 

'J'he  eastern  termination  of  the  (J rand  Portaire  road  is  at 
Lake  'J'imiscouta,  where  is  located  a  pleasant  hamlet  of  Cana- 
dians, and  a  j)ieketed  fort,  which  is  now  ahaniloned.  The 
views  from  this  s])'U  are  unic^ue  and  exceedinirly  heautiful, 
particularly  a  wcsti-rn  vi(!w  of  the  lake,  when  ulowiiii^  he- 
neath  the  ravs  of  tlie  setliuir  ^nn.  Tiie  Indian  word  Timis- 
couta  signilies  the  irlnding  irafcr,  and  accurately  desi-rihes 
the  lake,  which  has  a  serpentine  course,  is  twenty-four  miles 
long,  and  iVou^  two  to  three  wide.  Excepting  the  cluster  of 
houses  already  mentioned,  there  is  not  a  single  cahin  on  the 
whole  lake,  and  tlu  surrounding  mountains,  which  are  per- 
ha})S  a  thousand  fee!  high,  are  the  home  of  solitude  and 
silence.  Tlie  onlv  vessi^ls  that  navijrate  the  Lake  are  Indian 
canoes,  paddled  i)y  (Jan;  dians.  Not  only  does  the  isolated 
settlers  depend  upon  them  for  the  transportation  of  provisions, 
but  even  the  English  nohleman,  when  travelling  in  this  re- 
gion, linds  it  necessary  to  sit  like  a  tailor  in  tiieir  straw- 
covered  bottoms. 

The  only  oudet  to  Lake  Timiscouta  is  tlie  Madawaska 
River,  which  ir  but  a  contraction  of  the  same  water,  !?«it  re- 
duced to  the  width  of  a  stone's  throw,  and  leading  to  the  St. 
John's,  a  uistance  of  some  forty  miles.  The  meaning  of 
Madawaska,  as  I  am  informed,  is  never  frozen,  and  the  river 


168 


A  TOUR  TO  THE  RIVER  SAGUENAY. 


obtained  this  name  from  the  fact  that  certain  portions,  on  ac- 
count of  the  current,  are  never  ice-bound.  Tlie  scenerv  of 
the  river  is  precisely  simihir  to  that  of  its  parent  lake,  only 
that  it  is  a  little  cultivated.  The  waters  of  both  are  clear,  but 
not  very  deep  or  cold.  They  abound  in  fish,  of  wliich  the 
common  troui,  the  perch,  and  pickerel  (not  pike),  are  the 
more  valuable  varieties. 

The  manner  in  which  I  sailed  throu<:h  'J'iniiscouta  and 
Madawaska,  was  exceedinaly  pleasant,  if  not  peculiar  and 
ridiculous.  My  canoe  was  manned  by  a  couple  of  barba- 
rous  Canadians,  and  while  they  occupied  the  extreme  stern 
and  bow,  I  was  allowed  the  "  larjrest  lib(;rty"  in  the  body 
thereof.  It  was  an  exceedin^-|y  hot  day  when  I  passed 
through,  and  liaving  stripped  myself  of  nearly  all  my  cloth- 
ing", I  rolled  aI)out  at  my  own  sweet  will,  not  oidy  for  the 
purpose  of  keeping  cool,  but  that  I  might  do  a  good  business 
in  the  way  of  killing  lime.  At  one  moment  I  was  dipping 
my  feet  and  hands  in  the  water,  iiumming  a  lightsome  tune 
of  yore,  and  anon  sketching  the  portrait  of  a  mountain  or  a 
group  of  trees.  Now  I  lay  Hat  upon  my  back,  and  while  I 
watched  the  fantastic  movements  of  tlie  clouds,  as  they  crossed 
the  blue  of  heaven,  I  attended  to  the  comforts  of  the  inner 
man  by  sucking  maple-sugar.  Now  I  called  upon  the  boat- 
men to  sing  me  a  song,  and,  while  they  complied  with  my 
request,  I  fixed  myself  in  the  poetical  attitude  ol"  a  Turk, 
and  smoked  a  cigar.  At  one  time,  we  halted  at  a  mountain 
spring,  to  obtain  a  refreshing  drink,  and  at  another,  the  men 
pulled  up  to  some  rocky  point,  that  I  might  have  the  plea- 
sure of  throwing  the  fly.  Thus  vagabondizing,  "  pleasaiUly 
the  days  of  Thalaba  went  by." 

My  voyage  down  the  Madawaska  was  not  without  a  cha- 
racteristic incident.  There  was  quite  a  fleet  of  canoes  de- 
scending at  the  same  time,  some  of  them  laden  with  women 
and  oabies,  and  some   with  furs,  tin-ketUes,  and  the  knan- 


] 


i 


1 
■J 


I 


WILD  ANIMALS. 


160 


1 


sacks  of  liomc-hound  lumbermen.     Two  of  the  canoes  were 
managed   by  a  Canadian   and   a  Scotchman,  wlio  seemed  to 
cherish  a  deeply-rooted  passion  for  racing.     They  paddled  a 
mimber  of  heats,  and  as  they  were  alternately  beaten,  they 
both,  finally,  became  angry,  and  began  to  bet  quite  extrava- 
gantly.    The  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter  was   that  they 
went  ashore  on   a   bushy  point   among   the   mountains,  and 
settled    their  difiiculty  by  a  "  private  fight."     TJioy  fought, 
"like  brave  men,  long  and  well,"  and  by  the  time  one  had  a 
tooth  knocked  out  of  his  head,  and  the  other  hr.d  nearly  lost 
an    eye,    they   separated,   and    qniedy   resumed    tlieir   way. 
These  were  the  only  wild  animals  that  1  saw  in  the  Madii- 
waska  wilderness. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 


The  Acadians. 


Mouth  of  the  jMnthvrnskn^  July. 

At  iho  jiiiictioii  of  the  river  Madawaska  and  St.  John,  and 
extcndinir  for  some  miles  down  the  hitter,  is  a  settlement  of 
ahoul  three  hundred  Acadians.  How  these  people  came  by 
the  name  they  hear,  I  do  not  exactly  understand,  hut  of  their 
history,  I  rememhcr  the  followinjr  particulars.  In  the  year 
175.^,  durin<r  the  existence  of  the  colonial  difhculties  between 
England  and  France,  there  existed,  in  a  remote  section  of 
Nova  Scotia,  about  fifteen  thousand  Acadians.  Aristocratic 
French  blood  flowed  in  their  veins,  and  they  were  a  peaceful 
and  industrious  race  of  husbandmen.  Even  after  the  govern- 
ment of  England  had  become  established  in  Canada,  thev 
cherished  a  secret  attachment  for  the  laws  of  their  native 
country.  Hut  this  was  only  a  feeling,  and  they  continued  in 
the  peaceful  cultivation  of  their  lands.  In  process  of  time, 
however,  three  titled  Englishmen,  named  Lawrence,  Bos- 
cawan  and  Moysten,  held  a  council  and  formed  the  hard- 
hearted determination  of  driving  this  people  from  their  homes, 
and  scattering  them  to  the  four  (juarters  of  the  globe.  Play- 
ing the  part  of  friends,  this  brotherhood  of  conquerors  and 
heroes  sent  word  to  the  Acadians  that  they  must  all  meet  at 
a  certain  place,  on  business  which  deeply  concerned  their 


THE  ACADIANS. 


171 


welfare.     Not  dreamin}''  of  llicir  iinpemling  fate,  the   poor 
Acad 


lans  nic 


tat  t! 


)e  a 


PP 


uin 


ted  nl 


place,  anu  were  tliere  iiitorme 


til 


ifoi 


of  the  fact  that  their  houses  and  lands  were  forfeited,  and 
that  they  must  leave  the  country  to  become  wanderers  in' 
strange  and  distant  lands.  They  sued  for  mercy,  but  the 
iron  yoke  of  a  Christian  ration  was  laid  more  heavily  upon 
their  necks,  in  answer  to  that  prayer,  and  they  were  driven 
from  home  and  country,  and  as  they  sailed  from  shore,  or 
entered  the  wilderness,  they  saw  in  the  distance,  ascending  to 
Heaven,  the  smoke  of  all  they  had  loved  and  lost.  'IMiose 
who  survived,  found  an  asylum  in  the  United  States,  and  in 
the  more  remote  portions  of  the  British  empire,  and  when, 
after  the  war,  they  were  invited  to  return  to  their  early  homes, 
only  thirteen  hundr(^d  were  known  to  be  in  existence.  It  is 
a  remnant  of  this  very  people  who,  with  their  descendants, 
are  now  the  owners  of  the  Madawaska  settlement,  and  it  is 
in  an  Acadian  dwelling  that  I  am  now  penning  this  chapter. 
But  owing  to  their  many  misfortunes,  (I  would  speak  in 
charity,)  the  Acadians  have  degenerated  into  a  more  ignorant 
and  miserable  people  than  are  the  Canadian  French,  whom 
they  closely  resemble  in  their  appearance  and  customs. 
They  believe  the  people  of  Canatla  to  be  a  nation  of  knaves, 
and  the  people  of  Canada  know  them  to  be  a  half  savage 
community.  Worshipping  a  miserable  priesthood,  is  their 
al  business :  drinkinir  and  cheatin"-  their  neiL'-hI)()rs.  their 


►niK 


principal  amusement.  They  live  by  tilling  the  soil,  and  are 
content  if  they  can  barely  make  the  provision  of  one  year 
take  them  to  the  entrance  of  another.     They  are,  at  the  same 


ht   tl 


le 


time,  passionate  lovers  ot  money,  and  have  hroiig 
science  of  fleecing  strangers  to  perfection.  Some  of  them 
by  a  life  of  meanness  have  succeeded  in  accumulating  a  re- 
spectable property;  but  all  the  money  they  ol)tain  is  sys- 
tematically hoarded.  It  is  reported  of  the  principal  man  of 
this  place  that  he   has  in  his  house,  at  the  present  moment, 


172 


A  TOFR  TO  THE  RIVER  SAGUENAY. 


the  sum  of  ten  thousand  dollars,  in  silver  and  <^ol(l,  and  yet 
this  man's  children  are  as  ignorant  of  the  alphabet  as  the 
cattle  upon  the  hills.  But  with  all  their  ignorance,  the  Aca- 
dians  arc  a  liappy  people,  though  it  is  the  happiness  of  a  mere 
animal  nature. 

The  scenery  of  this  place,  which  does  not  seem  to  possess 
a  name,  is  quite  agreeable,  but  its  attractive  features  are  of  an 
architectural  character.  The  first  is  a  block  house,  and  the 
second  a  Catholic  church.  Tiie  block  house  occu{)ies  the 
summit  of  a  commanding  and  rocky  knoll,  and  was  built  at 
a  cost  of  near  five  thousand  dollars,  for  the  purpose  of  de- 
fending this  portion  of  New  Urunswick,  during  the  existence 
of  the  late  boundary  difficulty.  The  edifice  is  built  of  stone 
and  timber,  and  may  be  described  as  a  square  box,  placed 
upon  another  and  large  one  in  a  triangular  fashion;  the  width 
may  be  thirty  feet,  and  the  height  one  hundred  and  fifty.  It 
is  well  supplied  with  port  holes,  entered  by  a  wooden  flight 
of  stairs,  and  covered  with  a  tin  roof.  It  contains  two  stores, 
besides  r  well-filled  magazine.  It  is  abundantly  supplied 
with  guns  and  cannon,  and  almost  every  variety  of  shot,  shells 
and  balls.  It  was  once  occupied  by  three  military  companies, 
about  all  that  it  would  nc 


( 


ilily 


0 


being  who  now  has  anything  to  do  with  it,  is  a  worthy  man, 
who  olTiciates  as  keeper.  The  panorama  which  this  fortress 
overlooks,  is  exceedingly  picturesque,  embracing  both  the 
valley  of  the  Madawaska  and  that  of  St.  John,  which  fade 
away  amid  a  multitude  of  wild  and  uncultivated  mountains. 
When  I  first  looked  upon  this  block  house,  it  struck  me  as 
being  a  most  ridiculous  affair,  but  on  further  examination,  I 
became  convinced  that  it  could  not  be  taken  without  the 
shedding  of  much  blood. 

Of  the  church  to  which  I  alluded,  I  have  only  to  remark 
that  it  is  a  very  small,  and,  apparently,  a  venerable  structure, 
built  of  wood,  painted  yellow,  with   a   red   steeple.     It  is 


THE  ACADIANS. 


173 


I,  and  yet 
et  as  the 
,  the  Aea- 
of  a  mere 

o  possess 
are  of  an 
),  and  the 
■iij)ies  the 
IS  built  at 
so  of  de- 
existence 
t  of  stone 
X,  placed 
the  width 
fifty.     It 
len  flight 
o  stores, 
supplied 
ot,  shells 
m  panics, 
\'  liuman 
ly  man, 
fortress 
)()th   the 
ic'h  fade 
untains. 
V  me  as 
lation,  I 
out  the 


pleasantly  located,  amid  a  cluster  of  rude  cabins,  on  the  mar- 
gin of  the  St.  John,  and  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  a  race 
course.  It  was  my  fate  to  spend  a  Sabl)alh  in  this  Mada- 
waska  settlement.  As  a  matter  of  course,  I  attended  church. 
The  congregation  was  large,  and  composed  entirely  of  Aca- 
dians ;  decked  out  in  the  most  ridiculous  gew-gawish  dresses 
imaginable.  I  noticed  nothing  extraordinary  on  the  occa- 
sion, only  that  at  the  threshold  of  the  church,  was  a  kind  of 
stand,  where  a  woman  was  selling  sausages  and  small  beer. 
The  services  were  read  in  Latin,  and  a  sermon  preached  in 
French,  which  contained  nothing  but  the  most  common- 
place advice,  and  that  all  of  a  secular  character.  At  the  con- 
clusion of  the  service,  the  male  portion  of  the  congregation 
gradually  collected  together  on  the  neighboring  green,  and 
the  afternoon  was  devoted  to  horse  racing,  the  swiftest  horse 
belonging  to  the  loudest  talker,  and  heaviest  stake  planter, 
and  that  man  was — a  disciple  of  the  Pope,  and  the  identical 
priest  whom  I  had  heard  preach  in  the  morning.  It  will  be 
hard  for  you  to  believe  this,  but  I  have  written  the  truth,  as 
well  as  my  last  line  about  the  Acadian  settlement  on  the 
Madawaska. 


remark 
ructure, 
It  is 


If 


CHAPTER    XX. 

Sail  down  the  Madawaska — The  Falls  of  the  St.  John. 

Fails  of  the  St.  John,  July. 

In  coming  to  this  place,  from  the  North,  the  traveller  finds 
it  necessary  to  descend  the  river  St.  John  in  a  canoe.  The 
distance  from  Madawaska  is  thirty-six  miles,  and  the  day 
that  I  passed  down  was  delightful  in  the  extreme.  My  canoe 
was  only  about  fifteen  feet  long,  but  my  voyageur  was  an 
expert  and  faithful  man,  and  wc  performed  the  trip  without 
the  slightest  accident. 

The  valley  of  this  portion  of  the  river  is  mountainous,  and 
its  immediate  banks  vary  from  fifteen  to  thirty  feet  in  height. 
The  water  is  very  clear  and  rapid,  but  of  a  brownish  color, 
and  quite  warm,  varying  in  depth  from  three  to  tliirty  feet, 
and  the  width  is  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile.  That  portion  of 
the  stream  (say  some  seventy  miles  of  its  source),  which 
belongs  exclusively  to  the  United  States,  runs  through  a  fer- 
tile and  beautiful  country,  abounds  in  water-falls  and  rapids, 
and  is  yet  a  wilderness.  That  portion  which  divides  tiie 
United  States  from  New  Brunswick  is  somewhat  cultivated, 
but  principally  l)y  a  French  population.  Owinu  to  the  fact 
that  tbe  farms  all  face  the  river,  and  are  very  narrow,  (but 
extend  back  to  the  distance  of  two  or  three  miles,)  the  houses 
have  all  been  erected  immediately  on  the  river,  so  that,  to 


i 

J 


THE  MADAWASKA. 


175 


the  casual  observer,  the  country  niisrht  appear  to  be  thickly 
inhabited,  which  is  far  IVom  being  the  case.  The  principal 
business  done  on  the  river  is  the  driving  of  loffs  and  timber 


for  the  market  of  St.  John ;  and  excepting  the  worthy  and 
hard-working  lumbermen  who  toil  in  the  forests,  the  people 
are  devoted  to  the  tilling  of  their  land,  and  are  precisely 
similar  to  the  Acadians  in  their  manners  and  customs,  and 
probably  from  the  same  stock.  There  is  a  miniature  steam- 
boat on  the  river,  but  as  the  unnumbered  canoes  of  the  inha- 
bitants are  engaged  in  a  kind  of  opposition  line,  the  fiery 
little  craft  would  seem  to  have  a  hard  time.  In  navigating 
the  river  the  voyageurs  paddle  down  stream,  but  use  a  pole  in 
ascending;  and  two  smart  men,  gracefully  swinging  their 
poles,  and  sending  their  little  vessel  rapidly  against  the  cur- 
rent, taken  in  connection  with  the  pleasant  scenery  of  the 
river,  present  an  agreeable  and  novel  sight. 

We  started  from  Madawaska  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  having  travelled  some  twenty  miles,  we  thought  we 
would  stop  at  the  first  nice-looking  tavern  on  the  shore,  (for 
about  every  other  dwelling  is  well  supplied  with  liquor,  and, 
consequently,  considered  a  tavern,)  for  the  purpose  of  obtain- 
ing a  breakfast.  Carefully  did  we  haul  up  our  canoe,  and 
having  knocked  at  the  cabin  door,  were  warmly  welcomed 
by  a  savage-looking  man,  whose  face  was  completely  be- 
smeared with  dirt,  and  also  by  a  dirty-looking  woman,  a  cou- 
ple of  dirty-legged  girls,  and  a  young  boy.  The  only  furni- 
ture in  the  room  was  a  bed,  and  a  small  cupboard,  while  the 
fire-place  was  without  a  particle  of  fire.  In  one  corner  of 
the  room  was  a  kind  of  bar,  where  the  boy  was  in  attend- 
ance, and  seemed  to  be  the  spokesman  of  the  dwelling.  We 
asked  him  if  we  could  have  some  breakfast,  and  he  promptly 
replied  that  we  could. 

"  What  can  you  give  us  ?"  was  my  next  question. 


176 


A  TOUR  TO  THE   RIVER  SAGUENAY. 


n 


Anything  you  please,"  replied  the  boy,  in  broken  En- 


glish 


We'll  take  some  ham  and  effirs,  then 


?> 


•5^5" 


We  haven't  any,  only  some  eggs." 
We'll  lake  some  bread  and  milk." 
We  haven't  any  bread,  but  plenty  of  mill 


,  »» 


"  Haven't  you  any  kind  of  meat?" 

"  jVo,  plenty  of  Rum.     JVliaCU  you  /mye.^" 

I  could  stand  this  no  longer,  and  having  expressed  my  di^ 


d( 


id  his  fa- 


pleasure  at  the  ignorance  of  the  boy,  and  c 
ther  for  pretending  to  keep  a  tavern,  I  gave  the  former  a  six- 
pence, and  took  half  a  dozen  eggs,  with  which  we  returned 
to  our  canoe.  While  I  was  lixing  my  seat  in  tlie  boat,  and 
commenting  upon  wilderness  hospitality,  my  companion 
amused  himself  by  swallowing  four  of  the  purchased  eggs 
in  a  leather  cup  of  brandy.  In  two  hours  after  this  little  ad- 
venture, our  litde  canoe  was  moored  above  tiie  Falls  of  the  St. 
John,  and  we  were  enjoying  a  first-rate  breakfast,  prepared 
by  the  lady  of  a  Mr.  Russell,  v/ho  keeps  a  comfortable  house 
of  entertainment  in  this  place. 

After  I  had  finished  my  cigar,  and  enjoyed  a  resting  spell, 
I  pocketed  my  sketch-book,  and  spent  the  entire  day  exa- 
mining the  scenery  of  the  Falls.  After  making  a  broad  and 
beautiful  sweep,  the  river  St.  John  here  makes  a  sudden  turn, 
and,  becoming  contracted  to  the  width  of  about  fifty  yards, 
the  waters  make  a  plunge  of  perhaps  forty  feet,  which  is 
mos'iy  in  a  solid  mass,  though  rather  disposed  to  form  the 
third  of  a  circle  from  shore  to  shore.  Below  this  pitch,  and 
expending  for  about  two  miles,  is  a  continued  succession  of 
falhi,  which  make  the  entire  descent  upwards  of  eighty  feet. 
The  water  rushes  through  what  might  be  termed  a  winding 
chasm,  whose  walls  are  perhaps  one  hundred  and  fifty  or 
two  hundred  feet  high,  and  perpendicular.  Generally  speak- 
ing, the  entire  distance  from  the  first  fall  to  the  last,  presents 


i 


ell, 
x-d- 
tind 
rn, 
(Is, 
is 
he 
ind 
of 
t. 

or 

Ik- 

ts 


THE  FALLS  OF  ST.  JOHN'. 


1  *■*• 

1    4    t 


a  perfect  sjieet  of  foam,  thoiii^h  nrouiul  every  jiittiiiLr  point  i^; 
a  black,  and,  aj)pareiitly,  bottondess  pool,  wliicji,  \vh(Mi  [ 
peered  into  them,  were  (piite  alive  with  s:dmon,  l(Mj)in.«i-  into  tb(^ 
air,  or  swimnunir  on  the  maririii  of  the  foam.  On  llir  wester!! 
side  of  the  falls,  to  a  jxreat  ext(Mit,  the  original  lorest  has  lieen 
sudcred  to  remain,  and  a  walk  throuirh  their  sliadowv  reces- 
ses is  an  uncommon  treat;  and  on  this  side,  also,  is  the  ruiti 
of  an  old  saw-mill,  whicdi,  for  a  wonder,  actually  adds  to  the 
picturesque  beauty  of  the  spot.  On  die  eastern  side  of  the 
falls  is  a  commandini^  hill,  which  has  been  stripped  of  its 
forest,  and  now  presents  a  stump  field,  of  three  hundred  acres. 
It  is  a  desolate  spot,  but  in  strict  keepin<r  with  the  enterprise 
of  die  province.  The  expense  of  clearinir,  or,  r;ither,  half 
clearing-,  the  hill  in  question,  was  six  thousand  dollars,  and  it 
was  the  oriijinal  intention  of  the  mother  irovernment  to  erect 
thereon  an  extensive  fortress  ;  but  owiuji^  to  tlie  biriii  of  a 
sensible  reflection,  the  idea  was  abandoned.  'J'lie  barracks 
of  the  place,  as  they  now  exist,  consist  of  two  io^-  houses, 
which  are  occupied  by  a  dozen  sprigs  of  the  13ritish  Army. 
And  thus  endeth  my  account  of  the  most  picturesque  spot 
in  New  Ikunswick,  which,  I  doubt  not,  may  hereafter  be- 
come a  fashionable  place  of  summer  resort. 


12 


f 


C  11  A  P  T  E  K    A  X  1 


Tlic  Jlcrmit  of  Ai(K».>tu()k. 


a  f? 


iMoiifli  of  the  .■himslnok,  July. 

1  WAS  on  my  way  down  ihn  river  Si.  John,  in  New  Hruns- 
wic-k,  and  liavinir  heard  that  the  iXroo.stook  (one  ofits  prineipal 
tribntarics),  was  famous  lor  its  salmon  and  a  picturesque 
water-iall,  1  Jiad  taken  up  my  quarters  at  a  tavern  near  the 
month  ol'  that  stream,  with  a  view  of  throwino-  the  lly  for  a 
icw  days,  and  addinjr  to  my  stoek  of  sketehes.  1  arrived  at 
tliis  place  in  the  forenoon,  and  after  depositing  my  luiroao-e 
ill  an  upper  room,  and  orderinir  a  (Hnner,  1  proceeded  to  ar- 
range my  tackh)  and  pencils  for  an  afternoon  expedition. 
This  preparatory  business  I  performed  in  the  sittinir-room  of 
the  tavirn,  where  there  happened  to  be  seated  at  the  time, 
and  reading  the  New  York  Albion,  an  oddly-dressed,  but 
gentlemanly-looking  man.  In  form,  he  was  tall  and  slender, 
appeared  to  be  about  lifiy  years  of  age,  and  there  was  such 
an  air  of  relinemenl  in  his  appearance  and  manners  that  he 
attracted  my  particular  attention.  1  said  nothing,  however, 
and  quietly  continued  my  snelling  operations,  until  summoned 
to  dinner.  While  af  the  table,  I  sent  for  the  landlord  to  in- 
quire about  the  stranger  whom  I  had  noticed,  and  Jiis  reply 
was  as  follows:— "His  name  is  nobcrt  Eggcr;  he  is  a 
strange  but  good   man,  and  lives   the  life  of  a  recluse  ;  his 


iriiiis- 
icipal 
csque 
ir  the 
lor  a 
t'll  at 
tronofe 
o  ar- 
ition. 
)in  of 
linie, 
,  bill 
luler. 
such 
at  lio 
'ner, 
loncd 
o  in- 
rcply 
is  a 
;  his 


THE   IIKTOIIT  OF   AROOSTOOK. 


179 


house  is  abovo   the   fall,  on   \\\r    Aroostook,   ami   about  fom 
miles  from  here.      We.  has  Ixm^u  in  this    part    ot"  the    «'ountry 
for  many  years,  but  I  seliloin   see  him   at   mv  house,  exeept- 
injr  when  he  wants  to  read  the  news,  put  a  letter  in  the  olliec, 
or  purchase  a  basr  of  llour." 

With  this  intciliirence  I  was  (juite  delighted,  for  I  fancied 
that  I  hail  discovered  a  vhararlvr,  which  eventuallv  proved 
to  be  the  case.  On  returniuu;  to  {\n\  room  where  the  siraMi^er 
was  seated,  I  introduced  myself  by  olferin<:  him  a  ciLjar;  and 
while  lixin«r  my  rod,  asked  him  a  few  (luestions  about  tlu; 
surrountliut,^  country.  His  replies  proved  him  to  bi"  an  in- 
lelli<,rent  man,  and  as  he  iiappened  to  express  himself  a  lover 
of  tin;  "  jrontle  art,"  1  olfered  him  the  use  of  some  fishin«r 
tackle,  and  invited  him  to  accompanv  me.  lie  refused  mv 
olVer,  but  accepted  my  invitation,  and  we  started  lor  the 
Aroostook,  lie  olliciated  as  my  ^-uide  ;  and  when  we  ap- 
proached the  river,  which  was  from  two  to  live  feet  deep, 
about   one    hundred    yards    wide,  very  rapid,  and  tihed  with 


brid 


e  piers  in  ruin,  wo  jumped  into  a  Frenchman's  cano( 


and  were  lauded  on  the  northern  shore.     Ileri?  we  came  into 


I  Twad  which  passed  di 


rcc 


tly 


donir  the  bank  ol  the  river;  this 


th 


we  followed  for  one  mile,  until  we  arrived  at  a  (lourin(r-mill, 
located  at   the    mouth  of  a    lartre    anil    very  beautiful  brook, 


where  the  road  made  a  suililen  turn  towai 


ld( 


rds  tl 


le  north. 


Di 


recti 


V  o 


PP 


osite  the  mill,  on  the  Aroostook  side,  was  a  narrow 


and  rapid  rift,  where,  mv  Iriend  told  me,  1  was  sure  to  hook 
a  salmon.  1  did  not  like  the  appearance  of  the  j)lace,  but 
look  his  advice  and  waded  in.  I  tried  my  luck  for  some 
thirty  minutes,  but  could  not  tempt  a  sinjrle  fish.  This,  my 
friend  did  not  understand  ;  In*  said  there  were  salmon  there, 
and  thought  that  the  I'ault  was  mine.  1  knew  what  he  wanteil, 
and  therefore  handed  him  my  rod,  that  he  miuht  try  his  for- 
tune. He  lished  for  nearly  half  an  hour,  and  then  broke  the 
fly-lip  of  my  rod.     As  I  was  cherishing  an  earnest  desire  lo 


.? 


180 


A  TOUR  TO  THE   RIVF.R  SAOT  KNAY. 


t:ikr  :it  least  one  saliindi,  itndrr  the  f(tlK  wliioli  I  tljouirlit  llie 
only  likely  phico  to  siuH'ccd,  and  towards  wliicli  I  had  set 
my  lace,  this  little  accident  made  me  exccedinirly  nervous. 
My  iViend  attempted  to  console?  nu;  i)y  remarkin<r,  that,  as  it 
was  <r(<ttinir  to  he  toward  eveninir,  wc;  had  hetter  return  to  the 
tavern,  and  take  ;i  fresh  start  in  the  morninir.  IJut  this  pro- 
position did  not  suit  mc;  at  all,  and  1  promptly  said  so.  "  Just 
as  you  please,"  replied  my  companion,  and  so  we  re|)aired 
the  rod,  and  continued  up  the  river.  Very  rapid,  with  many 
and  decj)  pools,  was  this  j)ortion  ol"  the  stream  ;  and  our 
course  alonjr  the  shore,  ov(!r  loj^s  and  fallen  trees,  through 
tanjrled  undi'rhrush,  and  around  rocky  points — was  attended 
with  every  imairinahle  dilliculty,  and  so  continued  for  at  least 
two  miles.  On  comin<r  in  siirht  of  the  fall,  however,  I  was 
more;  than  ami)ly  repaid  for  all  my  troui)le,  hy  the  prosj)ect 
which  there  pres(!nted  itself.  It  was,  perhaps,  one  hour  he- 
fore  sunset,  and  there  was  a  deliiihtful  atmosphere  restini^ 
upon  the  landscape.  Directly  hefore  in(>,  in  the  extreme  dis- 
tance, and  immediately  undf^r  the  crimson  sun,  was  a  narrow 
rocky  i^orire,  through  which  foamed  the  waters  of  the  Aroos- 
took, over  a  precipice  of  some  thirty  feet;  and  just  hclow 
the  fall,  rose  a  perpendicular  rock  to  the  height  of  nearly  a 
hundred  feet,  dividing  the  stream  into  two  channels.  The 
entire  middle  distance  of  the  prospect  was  composed  of  a 
broad  and  almost  circular  basin  of  very  deep  and  dark  water, 
skirted  mosdy  with  a  rocky  shore,  while  directly  across  the 
surface  of  this  pool,  winding  down  the  stream,  was  a  line  of 
foam,  distinguishing  the  main  channel;  while  tlie  foreground 
of  this  picture  consisted  of  a  gravelly  beach,  two  bark  wig- 
wams, several  canoes,  and  some  half  dozen  Indians,  who 
were  enjoying  their  evening  meal  hy  the  side  of  an  expiring 
fire. 

We  held  a  brief  conversation  with  the  Indians,  and  found 
out  that  they  had  visited  the  basin  for  the  purpose  of  spear- 


TIIK    IIFUMIT  OF   AROOSTOOK 


1«I 


c  dis- 
rrow 
roos- 
clow 
irly  a 
Tlie 
of  a 
ivater, 
s  the 
ine  of 
round 
wig- 
who 


)iring 


found 
pear- 


in<I  Falinoii  hy  torcliliLdit ;  :ui(l  uhilt-  my  compMiiion  s;it  down 
in  lIuMr  midst  to  rest  himself,  1  ium|K(l  inlo  one  of  the  ciinoes, 
:nid  ]):i(l(llt'(!  to  ilic  fool  of  ilic  f:ill,  to  try  one  of  my  fancy 
llios.  1  jisju'd  for  ul)ont  thirty  mimitcs — caiiuht  one  small 
sahnon — lost  two  very  larL^c  ones,  and  nUinicfl  to  the  Indian 
ramp,  whore  I  had  j)r('vioiisIy  concdndcd  lo  spend  the  iiiLdit, 
])ro\  "(led  mv  (.niide  did  not  insist  \ij)on  relnrninu"  to  the  tavern 
hy  moonliLdit.  li  so  happened,  however,  that  my  intrre^lin^ 
plan  was  vetoed  hy  my  eomiianioii,  who  told  me  that  his 
dwellinii  was  onlv  a  mile  oil",  and  that  1  mnst  120  and  spend 
the  niii;ht  witii  liim.  I  willinLrK'  assented  to  this  proposition, 
and  havinL""  j)ieked  up  the  salmon,  we  enuane'd  tlie  Indians  to 
ferry  us  across  the  hasin,  and  j)roceeded  on  our  wav.  Our 
path  was  somewhat  narrow,  crooked,  and  intricale,  :!nd  as  I 
listened  to  the  roariuL''  of  the  water-fall,  and  ihouLdit  of  the 
mystery  which  huuu'  over  my  companion,  I  could  not  hut 
wonder  what   1  was   ahout,  and   to  what  stran<>e   plac-  [  was 


iromir. 


In  due  time,  liowever,  we  emeriicd  from  the  woods,  and 
came  out  upon  the  side  of  a  licntle  hdl,  which  slojx'd  to  the 
margin  of  the  Ar»)ostook,  and  was  sullicientlv  open  to  com- 
mand an  extensive  view  of  the  river.  Here  my  fri(!nd  told 
nie  to  tarrv  a  lew  monuMits,  for  he  had  a  canoe  hidden  amonfr 
some  willows,  and  wished  to  hunt  it  uj),  that  we  miL^it  re- 
eross  the  river  oiu'e  more.  I  heard  his  words,  hut  ncLdected 
to  assist  him,  for  my  whole  attention  was  riveted  hv  the 
scene  ujion  which  I  was  jraziui^.  'I'ln^  soher  livery  of  t\vi- 
light  had  settled  upon  the  world,  and  the  tlowinir  of  the  river 
was  so  peaceful,  that  1  could  distinctly  iiear  the  hum  of  un- 
nund)ered  insects  as  they  sported  in  the  air.  On  the  oppo- 
site sliore  WiiS  a  lofty  forest-covered  hill,  and  at  the  foot  of  it 
a  small  clearings  in  the  centre  of  whi(di  stood  a  rude  loj^ 
cabin — the  dwellinir-place  of  my  friend.  On  my  hd't,  the 
river  presented  the  appearance  of  a  lake  :  and  apparently  in 


182 


A  TOUR  TO  THE   RIVER  SAfaENAV. 


the  (TiUro  of  it  were  two  of  the  most  exciuisitclv  loli.-iircd 
islands  iiiinirinahlf.  'J')h>  valley  seemed  completely  hemmed 
in  with  mountains,  and  these,  (o<rether  with  a  Ldouinf^  skv. 
were  all  distinctly  mirrored  in  the  sleej)in(T'  waters.  Charm- 
in^r  be\ond  compare  was  this  eveniiiir  landscape,  and  the  holv 
time  "  was  quiet  as  a  nun,  hrealhli'ss  with  adoration."  Hut 
now  my  companion  summoned  me  to  a  scat  in  the  canoe, 
and  we  passed  over  the  stream  in  safety  ;  he  haided  up  his 
shalloj),  laid  aside  his  paddle,  and,  slappinir  me  on  the  slund- 
der,  led  tin;  way  to  his  cal)in,  repeatinir,  in  a  loud,  ck'ar  voic(\ 
the  follow inir  words  : 

"  Aioiic  I  live.  Iictwccii  /iiiir  Iiill.-: 

At  liiiics.  wild  ;)iiiiii;n'~  Jippc;,;-, 
l>nt   iiiiMi  air  Sfldum  SITU.' 

On  enteriiiiT  the  hut,  which  was  now  quite  dark,  as  it  oidv 
contained  one  window,  my  companion  turned  aljruplly  round, 
and  after  makiuir  a  frolicsome  reu'ark  about  my  heinii"  in  his 
power,  he  exclaimed — "  That  j)oetry  I  repeated  to  you  just 
now  was  a  home-sj)un  article  ;  hut  as  you  miaht  fancy  some- 
thinir  a  litUc  more  civilized,  I  wouid  say  to  vou,  my  vouul' 
frieiul,  in  the  larguage  of  Wordsworth's  Solitary, 

'  This  is  my  domain,  my  crll, 
My  licrmitaL;!'.  my  cal.iii,  wiiat  you  will  — 
1   Idvc  it  iicllcr  than  a  snail  his  Iioum' ; 


iiint 


niiw  vt'  shal 


Itc  lca>tcd  Willi  our  best 


Soon  as  these  words  had  lallen  from  Ids  lips,  my  friend  pro- 
ceeded to  collect  some  wood  for  a  lire,  luul  whihj  I  was  left 
to  kindle  tlu;  Ihune,  he  seized  a  tin-j)ail,  and  went  after  some 
sprino-  water,  which,  he  said,  was  sonu'  distaiu*e  oil".  In  a  few 
moments,  1  produced  a  sulllcient  (piantity  of  lioht  to  answer 
my  purpose,  and  then  took  occasion  to  survey  the  room,  into 
which.   1  had  been  thus   stran<rely  introduced.      I'lverythiniK 


■■( 


THE    HERMIT  OF   AROOSTOOK. 


183 


sky. 

:  huly 
Biu 
anoe, 
p  his 
sliuul- 
voice, 


it  only 
rouiul, 

ill  his 
III  just 

soinc- 

VOUUi' 


il  pro- 


:is 


wu 


somo 
|i  a  Il'NV 

US  WIT 

11,  int(> 
vthiiiij 


about  nic  soeiiicil  to  hi;  otiditv  itscll".  I'irsf  was  (lie  huirn  firc- 
phirc,  rudely  nnuh-  ot"  roiiuh  stones,  and  lillcd  with  ash(^s  ; 
tiicn  the  hhudvish  appoaranc(>  ol"  tlie  loii'  walls  around,  and  the 
hemlock  rallcrs  al»ov»\  In  one  corner  stood  a  kind  ol' wooden 
box.  lilled  with  blankets,  w  lii(di  answered  the  piirj)o>(>  ol"  a 
bed;  and  in  front  of  the  onl\'  window  in  tlic  cabin  was  .i 
pine  tai)le  (ui  whi(di  stood  an  inkstand  and  some  writinix 
paper,  and  under  which  sat  a  larLM'  LH'av  eat,  watchiuL^  niv 
movements  with  a  suspicious  eve.  In  one  j)lace  stood  a 
wooden  chest,  an<l  a  lialt-barr(d  of  meal,  and  tlie  onlv  tliiiiL^'-^ 
in  the  room  to  .-it  upon,  were  a  couple  of  wooden  cliairs. 
'J'he  crevices  in  tluj  wails  were  stopped  up  with  rii^js  and  clav, 
and  Irom  vari  ms  ratters  depended  bundles  ol'  mint,  hemlock, 
and  other  iisejul  productions  of  the  wood.  A  nistv  (»ld  iiun' 
and  a  bome-made  lisliinu  rod  occupied  one  corner  ;  and  on 
every  side,  rotinir  upon  wooden  peos,  were  nunuM'ous  sludvcs, 
of  evervsize  and  lorui,  wbicdi  were  aj  propriateil  'o  ;,  \arietv 
of  uses.  ()n  one  or  two  of  them  were  <!ie  coidvinL''  utensils 
of  mv  friend;  on  anollu'r,  a  lot  of  siiKtkv  books;  and  on 
others,  a  little  of  e\t*ry thiui!',  Iiaun  a  iiox  of  salt  or  paper  ol 
tea,  ilowii  to  a  spoid  of  tlireail  (»r  a  paper  of  needles. 


I 


n  a  few  moments  mv  friend  entered  the  cabin,  and  imnu 


diatelv  bciian  to  prepare  our   eveninir    meal,  whicli    consisted 


ol   bread,  Iried    pork,  and    salmon,  and    a  cup  ol    lea 


V 


w 


our 


lood 


1)111    It    wa.« 


as    nicelv    coo 


ked 


as    i!    11 


li:ul 


been  doiu;  b\-  a  j)rettv  uirl,  instead  of  an  old  m;m.  and  ilie 
comic  pomposity  with  which  every  little  matter  was  attended 
to.  all'orded  mo  much  amusement.  ()n(!  tliniL'"  1  remember, 
whieh  stru(d;  me  as  j)  irticulaily  funny.      My  host  v.as   iidk- 


lUL*"  a 


bout    the     'ondiict    of  Sir    Ivoberi    Peel    and  llie  I5rili>li 


Parliament,  and  wliile  in  the  midst  of   his  discourse,  opeiiet 


a  trap-door  leadinu"  to  liis  cellar,  and  descended  tin  rein.  I 
knew  not  what  he  was  after,  and  waited  bis  re-appearaiico 
with   yome  anxiety,  when  suddenly  he   bobbed  up  bis  irbosi- 


184 


A  TOUR  TO  THE    RIVER  SAGt'ENAV. 


likr  Iioad.  rcsurnod  the  thread  of  his  remarks,  and  hold  forth 
ii!  Olio  hand  a  hni^e  piece  of  fat  pork,  and  as  he  heoanie  ex- 
cited ahont  the  conthict  of  the  Prime  .Minister,  he  occasion- 
ally slappj'd  tlui  pork  with  the  remaininir  hand,  and  *hen 
shook  it  in  the  air,  as  if  it  had  been  one  of  the  bloody  Irish- 
men to  whom  he  was  occasionally  alliidin<x.  Hi'  reminded 
nie  of  Shakspeare's  <rrave-(liiri|er.  I  also  remember,  that,  when 
iiiv  friend  was  kncadin<r  his  broad,  the  idea  entered  ))is  head, 
from  some  remark  that  I  had  droppcMJ,  that  i  did  not  com- 
jireliond  the  moaning'  of  a  certain  passa<re  in  Shakspeare  ;  so 
h(!  immediately  wiped  one  of  his  hands,  loaned  over  for  his 
laontnl  cojiy  of  the  miijfhty  bard,  ant!  immediately  seltleii  the 
question  lo  our  liiutual  satisfaction. 

Supper  boiniif  ended,  I  pulled  out  of  my  pocket  a  couple 
of  ciirars  which  I  liad  brouaht  with  nu\  and  we  then  seated 
ours(  Ives  comfortably  before  the  lire,  and  enteroil  into  a  sys- 
tematic conversation.  Tiu^  iireater  [)art  oi'  the  talkinji  was 
done  by  my  companion,  and  in  the  course  of  the  evenini:,  I 
gathered  the  followiiur  particulars  respectinij  his  own  history: 

11(>  tohl  me  ho  was  a  native  of  Hampshire,  J'jigland,  and 
liatl  spent  his  boyhood  in  tlie  city  of  liondon,  as  a  countiuij- 
liouse  clerk.  He  claimed  a  ufood  name  I'or  his  family,  and 
added  that  Mr.  .lerdan,  editor  of  the  London  JiitiM'ary  Ga- 
zette, was  his  brothtor-in-law,  havinjT  mariiod  his  oidy  sister. 
lie  avowed  liiinself  about  sixty  years  of  atro,  and  had  b(>on 
a  resilient  of  Now  IJrunswick  ever  since  the  vear  180'.).  lie 
iirst  came  across  the  Atlantic  as  a  uovernment  a<,rent,  for  the 
transaction  of  business  connected  with  the  Fur  Trade;  and 
when  lie  settled  in  the  j)rovince,  the  whole  country  was  an 
untrodden  wihlerness.  Since  th:\t  time  he  had  followed  a 
variety  of  employments,  had  acquired  a  competence,  but  lost 
ii  ihrouuh  the  rascality  of  friends.  He  told  me  he  was  a 
widower,  and  that  he  had  one  son,  who  resided  in  Trederick- 
lon,  and  was  rapidly  acquiring  a  reputation  for  his  knowledge 


1 


THE  HERMIT  OF  AROOr^TOOK. 


1H5 


I'orlli 

!    CX- 

sion- 

^heii 
[risli- 
iiuled 
wlion 
head, 

com- 
e  ;  so 
)r  \n^ 
lhI  the 

^ouplc 
scaled 
a  sys- 
itl  \v;is 
ninsz,  I 


^tory 
1,  aiK 


imtinir- 


am 


•V  (ia- 
sister. 


jcen 


1  1 


or 


the 


aiu 


^vas  an 


Invo 


a 


1)1 


I  lost 


was  a 


lone 


INV 


k- 
,ludsje 


of  ciiLMiiccriiiL'".  ''  It  docs  iiiv  heart  jjood  to  rein(Mnl)er  iIiIn 
fact,"  continued  my  friend,  "  and  I  do  hope  that  my  son  will 
not  disgrace  his  family,  as  some  people  seem  to  think  I  have 
done.  The  God-forsaken  inhabitants  of  this  n^^ion  have  a 
habit  of  calling  me  a  crazy  old  man.  (Jod  b(>  j)raisc(l  !  I 
know  they  overshoot  the  mark  in  that  particular;  il'  I  have 
lost  my  reason,  I  can  tell  the  mockini:  world  that  1  have  en- 
dured trouble  enouirh  to  make  even  a  philosopher  a  raving 
maniac.  By  jiatient  and  unwearied  toil,  I  have  won  two 
small  fortunes,  but  both  of  them  were  snatched  away,  ami  I 
was  lelt  a  beijirar.  The  home  government  took  pity  on  me, 
and  od'ereil  to  make  me  a  present  of  land,  adding  that  1  was 
at  liberty  to  make  my  own  selection.  I  accepted  their  oiler, 
and  selected  live  hundred  acres  on  the  Aroostook,  makiuL^  the 
fall  we  visitcid  this  eveninir  the  centre  of  my  domain.  1  duly 
received  a  deed  for  the  properiv,  and  havinii:  cf)iicluded  that 
my  fellow-men  were  as  tired  of  me  as  1  was  of  them,  I 
bolted  for  the  wilderness,  and  have  lived  Ikm'c  ever  since. 
Yes,  sir,  lor  twelve  years  have  I  be(Mi  the  oidy  human  in- 
male  of  this  rude  cabin  ;  I  ouir}  t  to  excej)t,  however,  *  a  lucid 
interval'  of  some  nine  months,  which  1  spent  in  Mngland, 
about  four  years  ajro,  visitinsi^  my  friends  and  the  I'avorite 
haunts  of  my  childhood.  'J'o  enjoy  even  that  little  luxury, 
I  was  compelled  to  sacrifice  a  portion  of  my  land.*' 


IJul 


why  do   you    not   sell    your   entire  pro})erty,     1  ro 


I 


marked,  "ami   take   up  your  abode  among  men,  where  your 


knowl 


edi-e  mmlit  be  made  aval 


labl( 


^i 


Knowleilge,  inde(Ml  !"  replied  the  herinll  pbilosoj)her ; 
"all  that  I  possess,  you  miaht  easily  hide  in  the  bowl  of  an 
acorn.  I  do  know  enouirli  to  cast  my  eyes  heavenward, 
when  crushed  by  misi'orluue,  but  the  same  knowledire  was 
possessed  by  the  worm  iijx)!!  wbi(di  1  accidentally  trod  this 
morning.  What  is  man,  at  his  best  estate,  but  a  worm  ? 
Bui  this  is  not  answering   your  question.     IMy  only  reason 


186 


A  TOUR  TO  Tin:   RIVER  SAOUENAY. 


for  not  srllinu  this  properly  is,  tlint  I  cnnnot  find  a  purcliiiscr. 
Most  gladly  would  1  jump  at  tlie  chance,  and  then  I  fro/dd 
inintrlc  witli  my  fellow-men,  and  endeavor  to  be  nf  them. 
'JVavellers,  who  sometimes  pass  thronirh  this  reirion,  tell  me 
that  my  projierty  is  worth  $r>0()0  ;  I  know  'l  to  he  worth  at 
least  that  amount,  hut  I  should  he  Ldad  to  sell  it  for  ii^.'iOOO, 
and  that,  too,  on  n  credit  of  ten  years.  'J'he  interest  would, 
indeed,  !)(>  a  meaL'"re  income,  hut  I  have  scliooU''!  myself  in 
the  ways  of  j)overty  ;  and  thouirji  it  once  cost  me  S2(M)I)  to 
carry  me  throuoh  a  sin<de  year,  I  can  tell  von  that  mv  ex- 
penses  for  the  last  five  years  have  not  averajred  '^lore  than 
ttrentji  dollars,  which  1  have  had  to  obtain  as  best  I  could. 
But  you  luust  not  misunderstand  me.  'IMie  little  clearing 
which  surrounds  my  rookery,  contains  six  acres,  aiul  as  I 
cultivate  them  with  all  diligence,  they  keep  me  from  actual 
starvation." 

"Hut  it  strikes  me,  my  dear  sir,  that  you  asl^  rather  an  ex- 
travagant price  I'or  your  uncultivated  land  V  {  asked  this 
question  with  a  view  of  obtaining  some  information  in  refer- 
ence to  the  valley  of  the  Aroostook,  and  was  not  disappointed. 
The  reply  of  my  iVicnd  was  as  follows: 

"I  can  convince  you  that  you  are  mistaken.  In  the  first 
place,  the  water  privilege  which  my  land  covers,  is  acknow- 
ledged to  he  liie  most  valuable  on  the  Aroostook,  and  I  mav 
add  that  it  is  abundantly  fertile.  And  then  think  of  the 
valley,  at  the  very  threshold  of  which  I  am  located  !  It  is 
one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  luxuriant  in  tins  northern 
wilderness  ;  antl  the  oidy  thing  against  it,  though  I  say  it  that 
should  not,  is  the  fact  that  nearly  live  miles  of  its  outlet  bc- 
lonsrs  to  the  English  ijovernment,  while  the  remainder  belongs 
to  the  United  States.  The  whole  of  it  ought  to  he  vours  ; 
but  if  it  were,  I  would  not  live  here  a  year  ;  I  am  near  enough 
to  you  m)W  ;  directly  ,xi  the  boundary  line  between  your 
country  and  mine.     The  Aroostook,  1  verily  believe,  is  one 


■i 


Hirst 

lOW- 

inay 
ihc 
litis 
liern 
llliat 
bc- 
hngs 
lirs  ; 
lugh 
I' our 
lone 


s 


THK   HF.KMIT  OF   AROOSTOOK. 


18T 


of  the  most  important  hranclics  of  tlic  St.  .Io)mi.  Its  nt'iUTal 
conrsc  is  castcrlv,  hut  it  is  cxcccciiiiiilv  serpentine,  and  ac- 
corclinir  to  sonu'  ot"  vour  best  snrvevors,  drains  upwards  of  a 
million  acres  of  tlu,'  l-est  soil  in  Maine.  Aliovc  mv  plaee. 
there  is  hardly  a  spot  that  miLdit  not  he  iiaviiraKHl  l»v  a  small 
steamboat,  and  I  helie've  tin;  lime  is  not  f;ir  disiimi  when  your 
enterprisinij:  ^  ankees  will  have  a  score  of  boats  emidovetl 
liore,  in  carryinir  their  ifraiii  to  market.  I'efore  that  time 
{?omes.  however,  von  nnist  iUis  a  canal  or  hnild  a  I'ailroad 
around  my  heauiiful  water-fall,  which,  I  am  sure,  conld  hi. 
d'Mie  for  S>10,00().  An  extensive  lumheriiiL''  business  is  now 
carried  on  in  the  vallev,  hnt  its  future  prosperity  unist  depend 
upon  its  aixriculture.  Already  art'  its  shores  dolled  with 
well-cultivated  farms,  and  every  year  is  addinn'  to  their  luim- 
ber,  and  the  rural  beauty  of  those  alreadv  in  existence.  The 
soil  '.)f  this  valley  is  riidi,  and  composed  principally  of  what 
is  called  i(lhivhd  (iH)t  interval)  land,  lo<rether  w  th  the  ([uality 
knovvn  as  i/phnul.  In  inany  portions,  however,  you  will 
tind  some  of  the  most  charminu-  intervals  in  the  world.  The 
trees  of  this  reirion  are  similar  to  those  of  your  northern 
Slates.  The  staple  crop  of  the  Aroostook  i'armer  is  wheat. 
Owiiur  to  the  shortness  of  our  seasons,  corn  does  not  arrivi^ 


at  perfection. 


and  its   cnltivali(m   is   luulected.      Uve,  barlev 


and  oats,  a 


II  11 


olUl; 


dll 


lere,  but  nmch  more  i)U!MvW 


heal 


IS  raise 


than  anv  other  ijrain  besides  wheat.  (Jrasses  llonrish  here 
in  ureal  perfection,  and  the  larnu'r  of  Aroostook  will  yet 
send  to  nuu-kel  inunense  f[uantities  of  "allle.  As  to  the 
clinnile,  it  is  not  so  severe  as  is  nem  rally  supposed.      Siu) 


w 


hdls   early,  ami    coniiniU'S    late,  which   prevents    the  Ln'ouiul 
Irom  freeziii<(  very  dee[).      And  when  sumnu'r  coim's,  as  y 


ou 


mav  testilv,  th(!  wt>ather  is  sullicieiitly  warm  b»r  every  ne- 
cessary  purpose.  Now,  sir,  <lo  you  not  think  1  have  made 
out  a  clear  case  f  \  answrcd  in  the  allirmative,  and  thanked 
him  for  the  information  he  had  L'iven  nie.     liike  Oliver  Twist, 


''\' "  ^ 


18H 


A   TOIR  TO  TMi:   RIVER  SAGl  EXAY. 


liowevor,  1  was  anxious  lor  "niore,"a!ul  tlun-crorc  (.Mulca- 
vorc'il  to  start  him  on  aiiotliCM-  suhjoct.  In  this  lautlahle  cll'ort 
I  fully  succcL'clccl,  and  by  merely  expressini^  ilio  opinion  that 
he  must  lead  a  very  lonely  life"  in  this  remote  wilderness. 

"Not  at  all,  not  at  all,"  re|)lie(i  my  iViend.  "'It  is  my 
jTQod  fortune  to  belon<x  to  that  class  of  men  who  tlepend  upon 
l)ooks,  the  works  of  nature,  and  themselves,  for  happiness,  and 
not  upon  a  seliish  iind  heartless  world.  As  to  my  hooks,  they 
are  not  vi-rv  ahundanl,  nor  are  ihev  hound  in  fancy  moroceo  ; 
but  the  substance  of  them  is  of  the  rii>ht  sort.  Foremost 
amonjr  them  is  the  Ijible,  which  tells  even  a  poor  devil  like 
me  that  he  is  a  man.  Perfect  in  their  generation  are  the 
truths  of  this  glorious  old  JJook;  they  have  an  important 
beariniT  upon  everythin<r;  and  they  should  be  studied  and 
cherished  with  jealous  care.  IJut  the  earth-born  men,  with 
whom  1  hold  daily  coiumunion,  arc  the  mi;irhty  Shakspeare, 
the  sphmdid  Gibbon,  the  irood  and  h)ving  brother  poets 
Thomson  and  Wordsworth,  the  <rified  but  wayward  liurns, 
the  elejrani  and  witty  Addison,  and  the  jionderous  Johnson. 
These  are  the  minds  whicli  always  alford  me  solid  satisfac- 
tion. As  to  the  immense  herd  who  keep  the  printiui^  [)resses 
of  the  present  day  constantly  employed,  j.  know  nothing 
about  them,  and  care  still  less.  And  now  as  to  the  pleasures 
which  are  brou<rht  to  me  by  tlie  revolving  seasons.  They 
are  indcied  manifold,  and  it  is  {)l(!asant  to  remember  that 
'Nature  never  did  betray  the  heart  that  loved  her.'  'J'lie 
liills  which  surround  my  cabin  1  look  upon  as  familiar 
friends  ;  not  only  when  crowned  with  a  wreath  of  snow,  but 
when  rejoicinor  in  their  summer  bloom;  and  a  more  peaceful 
and  hcart-soothiniT  stream  can  nowhere  be  found,  than  the 
one  which  llows  alonir  by  my  door;  and  you  know  from  experi- 
ence that  it  abounds  in  the  linest  of  salmon  and  trout.  'J'he 
surroundini>"  woods  furnish  me  with  t^'aine,  but  their  i^reatest 
treasures  are  the  ten  thousand  beautiful  birds,  whicli  luake 


H 


THE   IIKRMIT  OF   AROOSTOOK, 


1S9 


;es 

•('S 

ley 

Kit 

'he 
iar 

)Ut 

ful 
he 

iie 

lest 

ke 


melody  ill  their  lillh>  hearts,  and  .ill'ord  me  unaUoved  pk-asure 
for  at  h'ast  one  half  the  y(Mr.  I  sehloin  have  oeeasiou  to 
kill  these  feathered  niiiisirels  for  food,  and  the  i'ons(M|iieii('e 
is,  \vhen(!ver  I  iro  out  into  my  fields  to  work,  ihev  leather 
around  me  without  fear,  and  ol'tcii  (Muiie  so  ii'ar,  as  to  he  in 
iriy  very  way.  The  ([iiail  and  the  wren,  the  javand  the  hliie- 
bird,  the  moekinir-hird,  the  partridoc,  the  llsh-hawk,  the  eairle, 
and  the  erow,  and  also  the  swallow,  the  owl  and  whi|)[)Oor- 
will,  all  huild  their  nests  williin  a  stoma's  throw  of  iiiv  door, 
and  thcv  know  that  the  friendh-ss  old  man  will  do  them  no 
harm.  And  then  what  exriuisite  pleasure  do  I  eontinually 
enjoy  in  watehiiiir  the  ever-varyinir  ehanues  of  the  year  ! 
First,  when  the  primrose  tells  me  that  the  rains  are  over 
and  iJ^onc,  and  I  <io  forth  in  th(3  r(ifreshinLr  sunshine  to  sow 
my  seeds;  secondly,  when  the  iilorious  summer  is  in  its 
prime,  with  its  dewy  morniiins  and  lovelv  twiliirjits  ;  also  in 
the  sohiT  autumnal  time,  when  1  ihouiihifullv  count  the 
leaves  floatiiiij"  on  the  bosom  of  the  stream;  and  then  aaain 
when  the  cold  winds  oi"  winti  r  are  howlinsr  around  my  cabin, 
and  1  sit  in  my  pleasant  solitude  hefore  a  roarino;  lire,  build- 
ini^  palaces  in  my  mind,  as  I  peer  into  the  burninfr  embers. 
Yes,  sir,  I  have  learned  to  live  without  excnteinent,  anil  to 
depend  upon  myself  for  the  com[)aiiionship  I  need.  I  do, 
indeed,  occasionally  steal  out  of  my  beautiful  vale,  and  minirlc 
with  my  fellow  men  ;  but  I  always  return  perfectly  contented 
with  mv  lot.  After  all,  I  do  not  believe  that  the  world  cou/d 
add  fj;reatly  to  my  stock  of  ha[)[)ines.s,  even  if  I  were  a  wor- 
sliipj)er  of  Mammon,  a  brawling  politician,  or  a  responsible 
statesman." 

*'  Hut,  Mr.  KiTger,  it  strikes  me  that  your  manner  of  life  is 
not  in  keeping  with  the  Hible,  I'or  which  you  have  expressed 


so  much  reverence 


»> 


"That  may  be  true,  '  was  the  reply,  "but  I  make  no  sanc- 
timonious pretensions.     I  do  but  little  to  promote  the  happi- 


:r 


10(1 


A  TOIR  TO   Tin;    UIVKR   SACJIKXAV 


ncss  of  mv  IcUow-mfii,  :iii(l    I   conirratiilatc   invscll    with  i\\v 


i( 


len  tlial  I  do  as  little  to  uiaki?   tlicm    miserable 


'J'l 


le    Iltllll- 


(Mice  ol  iiiy  example  amounts  to  nolliiiiLT,  and  I  irive  no  bread 
10  the  poor,  because  1  have  non<'  to  aive.  Hut  let  us  droji 
the  subject;  1  feel  tliat  your  ([uestions  may  so  aiinov  me,  that 
I  shall  be  com|)elled  to  abandon  lliis  (.dorious  old  wilderness, 
and  become  a  denizen  of  tlu;  busy  and  noisy  world.'' 

A  brea(di  havinjr  thus  been  madi'  in  our  discourse,  1  ex- 
amined my  watch,  and  found  it  to  be  near  twelv(;  o'cdock. 
My  companion  took  the  hint,  and  immediately  proceeded  to 
fix  a  sleepinir  place  that  would  accommodate  us  both.  'J'his 
was  (lone  by  spreadinir  the  (dothes  of  the  wooden  bedstead 
upon  the  lloor.  \\  bile  <roin<r  through  with  this  little  opera- 
lion,  he  held  hi^h  above  his  head  a  rair^ed  old  bcd-(juilt,  and 
asked  me  what  1  thoiiLdit  C^ueeu  N'ictoria  would  say,  if  she 
had  su(di  an  article  to  rest  her  royal  liud)s  upon  .'  He  then 
pointed  to  the  particidar  spot  which  he  wanted  nu'  to  occupy. 
givin<j;  as  a  reason  for  the  reipiest,  that  there  was  a  htde  on 
the  opposite  side  of  his  mansion,  where  loads,  rats,  and 
weasels  were  Ireciuently  in  the  habit  of  enterini,'',  and  lu?  was 
afraid  that  they  might  annoy  me,  thouirh  lie  liad  never  been 
disturbed  by  their  nocturnal  visits.  'J'his  ini'orination  ap- 
peared to  me  somewhat  ])eculiar,  but  did  not  prevent  me 
from  undressing  myself  to  lie  down.  When  about  half  through 
tliis  business,  lio-.vever,  I  was  actually  compelled  to  take  a 
seat  on  account  of  a  lauohing  fit  brought  upon  me  by  one 
(11  iv/o  stories,  which  my  host  related  for  my  special  beneiit. 
What  a  strange  man,  indeed  !  thought  1,  and  making  another 
ellbrt,  1  tumbled  into  bed.  In  the  mown  time,  my  companion 
had  stripped  himself  of  everything  but  his  shirt,  and  in  spite 
of  th«;  frailty  of  his  "spindle  shanks,"  was  throwing  himself 
into  the  attitudes  for  which  Kemble  was  distinguished,  whose 
acting  he  had  often  witnessed  in  olden  times.  I  was  already 
quite  exhausted  with  excess  of  laughter,  and  i  verily  believed 


; 


THK    lir.RMIT   OF    AROOSTOOK. 


191 


thai  llic  (iiiccr  antics  of  tlio  aiu'horiU'  and  j)liilos()j)li('r  would 
be  the  death  of  me.  Hill  I  It  It  ihal  I  iiiiist  ao  to  sh'cp,  ami, 
in  S(  ir-dcfciice,  j)artly  covered  inv  head  with  the  end  ol  a 
(]llilt,  and  ahnosl  swore  that  1  would  not  he  disuiihed  ai:ain. 
I  did  not  swear,  however,  and  was  c()nset|uenll\  aijain  dis- 
turbed. I  had  just  tixed  my  lu.'ad  upon  the  pdlow,  as  I 
thouirht,  for  the  last  lime,  when  I  was  startled  hv  a  tremen- 
dous yell  pro(.'e(!dinir  from  without  the  cabin.  1  rushed  out  of 
the  hous(;  as  if  the  old  Harry  himself  had  been  after  me, 
and  beheld  my  spare  ami  venerable  friend  sitlini.'-  ujxm  a 
stump,  lia/inir  upon  the  risimr  moon,  and  lisieniny-  to  the 
distant  howl  of  a  wolf,  with  on(>  of  his  feet  daiinlinij;  t(>  and 
fro  like  the  jx-ndulum  of  a  cloidc.  '*  Wasn't  that  a  musieal 
yell,  my  boy  ?"  were  the  lirst  words  spoken  bN  the  hermit 
mail-cap;  and  then  he  went  on  to  point  on!  all  ihe  liner  fea- 
tures of  the  sci'iu'  spread  out  before  us.  SihniU  llowed  the 
stream,  uraiul  and  sublime  looked  the  mountains,  clear  and 
very  blue  the  sky,  spirit-liki!  the  moon  and   stars,  and   above 


ll 


w 


le  nei<(libormo- w:iter-lall  ascended  a  column  ol  spray,  which 
[US  fast    nudtini:    iulo   a  snowy  idoud.      Alter  enjoy inir  this 


picture  lor  a  reasonable  time,  my  companion   then   proposfM 


that 


w 


e  siiouUl  enjoy  a  swim  m  the  river,  to  winch   arrant^e 


Inch 


menl  1  assented,  (.'ven  as  did  the  weddinir-ifuest  of  ('oleridge 
to  the  command  of  the  Ancient  .Mariiujr.  Our  bath  ended, 
we  returned  to  the  cabin,  ami  in  the  course  of  half  an  hour. 


the  h 


lermil  and  the  stran<»er  were  side  by  sKh;  in  ihi!  arms  ol 


le  b 


lb 


deep. 
Oi 


tl 


th 


di 


n  openinE;'  my  eyes  in  the  morninfr,  the  pleasant  sunshine 
was  lloodini>-  ihe  lloor  through  the  o[)en  dcxu',  and  my  friend, 
who  hail  risen  without  distiirbini;  me,  was  frviui:  stjiiie-  trout 
which  he  had  just  taken  in  tiie  stream.  I  arose,  rolled  up 
the  bed,  and  prepannl  myself  for  breakfast,  which  was  par- 
ticularly relished  by  the  giver  and  the  receiver.  1  spent  the 
forenoon  ramblin<^  about  the  estate  of  iii)  old  friend,  and  en- 


192 


A  Torn  TO  Tin:  river  saoffnay. 


joyinir  the  surmnndinir  sccnory ;  I  then  proposed  to  him  fli-.t 
he  should  iTo  down  and  he  my  ^mest  at  the  tavern  on  the  St. 
John  h)r  a  day  or  two,  which  invitation  was  aceej)ted.  On 
my  return,  I  took  a  sketch  of  the  sechuh-d  vale  where  stands 
the  c(,tta^rc  of  my  friend,  also  a  profile  of  his  own  Jiandsome 
face,  and  a  view  of  his  water-fall.  The  time  of  my  departure 
hav.ncr  arrived,  I  left  my  friend  with  a  hcnvv  hJart,  for  my 
distant  (Mty-home,  while  lie  returned  to  his  solitary  cottage 
amon<r  the  mountains.  '  "^ 


J 


!._ 


itmmmammk,- 


CHAP  r  i:  K    XXII. 


Tho  RiviT  St.  Julif). 


IVnn'hlDik,  July 

I  HAVE  recently  performed  a  piltrriiiKigc;  alonir  ih(^  valley 
of  the  TiOsvcr  St.  John,  and  as  I  am  about  to  leave  \]\r.  river, 
it  is  meet  that  I  .shoulti  ii'iw.  my  reath'r  a  record  of  my  ob- 
servations. The  distance  from  the  Falls  of  St.  Tolm  to  the 
city  of  that  name,  is  two  hundred  and  twenty  miles.  The 
width  of  the  river  varies  from  a  ([uarter  of  a  mile  to  two 
miles,  and  the  depth  from  tw(j  to  forty  feet.  That  portion 
lying  north  of  Frederickton  abounds  in  rapids  and  shallows, 
and  is  navigated  only  by  flat-bottomed  boats,  which  arc  taken 
up  stream  by  horse  power,  but  descend  with  the  tmrrenl. 
Here,  for  the  most  part,  the  shores  are  mountainous,  and  only 
partly  cultivated,  with  high  and  picturescpie  baidvs;  the  lowest 
portion,  however,  is  of  a  level  character,  and  presents  the 
appearance  of  an  ancient  and  highly  cultivated  country,  and 
is  navigated  by  steamboats,  and  the  common  sail-craft  of  the 
country.  The  soil  all  along  the  shores  is  good,  but  seems 
better  adapted  for  grass  than  wheat,  and  I  can  see  no  good 
reason  for  its  not  becoming  greatly  distinguished  as  a  grazing 
country. 

The  river  is  not  distinguished  for  any  pictorial  feature, 
(though  it  abounds  in  beautiful  landscapes,)  excepting  a  place 
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194 


A  TOUR  TO  THE   RIVER  SAGUENAY. 


called  the  Narrows,  situated  at  the  southern  extremity.  At 
this  point  the  stream  is  not  more  than  live  hundred  yards 
wide,  and  as  it  is  bounded  on  either  side  by  a  higli  rocky  bar- 
rier, the  current  ordinarily  passes  tlirough  with  great  rapidity. 
The  tides  of  the  ocean  ascend  about  thirty  miles,  and  it  is 
only  when  the  tide  is  high  that  the  point  in  question  can  be 
navigated.  Tliough  these  Narrows  are  a  great  annoyance  to 
the  navigator,  by  the  lover  of  the  picturesque  they  are  highly 
esteemed. — Not  only  are  they  beautiful  in  themselves,  but, 
owing  to  the  peculiarity  of  the  place,  it  is  frequently  the  case, 
that  the  broad  expanse  of  water  above  it  is  covered  with  a 
fleet  of  sloops,  schooners,  steamboats,  towboats,  and  timber 
crafts,  which  present  a  peculiar  and  agreeable  panorama. 
The  river  abounds  with  salmon  and  shad,  and  the  former, 
though  rather  small,  may  be  taken  by  the  angler  in  tlie  prin- 
cipal tril)utaries.  They  are  not  sufFiciently  abundant,  how- 
ever, to  constitute  an  important  article  of  commerce,  and  the 
common  modes  of  taking  them  are  with  the  spear  and  the 
drift  net. 

The  principal  towns  on  the  St.  John  are,  Woodstock, 
French  Village,  Frederickton  and  St.  John.  The  first  of 
these  is  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  from  the  mouth,  and 
though  a  ragged,  yet  an  interesting  village.  So  far  as  its  na- 
tural productions  are  concerned,  I  am  disposed  to  compliment 
this  province  in  the  highest  terms ;  but  I  must  say,  that  the 
ignorance,  idleness,  and  gouging  character  of  its  common  peo- 
ple, have  made  me  quite  willing  to  take  my  departure  there- 
from. The  expenses  of  travelling  are  enormous.  Stage 
fares  average  about  twelve  cents  per  mile,  and  if  you  happen 
to  spend  a  week  at  a  miserable  country  tavern,  you  will  have 
to  pay  two  dollars  per  day  for  board.  With  a  few  exceptions, 
there  is  hardly  a  country  tavern  in  the  province,  where  the 
traveller  is  not  in  danger  of  being  robbed.  It  was  my  good 
fortune  to  be  robbed  only  twice,  but  I  was  particularly  fortu- 


•i 


\ 


1 


THE  RIVER  ST.  JOHN. 


195 


ive 
ns, 
he 
iod 
tu- 


i 


1 
5 


nate.  Tliis  is  rather  severe,  but  I  am  driven  to  talk  in  this 
strain,  though  1  would  not  be  understood  as  rellerlinir  upon 
the  better  classes  of  the  province. 

Tiic  staiie  route  from  the  (Jrand  Falls  to  St.  John  passes 
through  Woodstock,  but  the  distance  from  this  place  to  the 
American  town  of  lloulton  is  ten  miles,  and  in  this  direction 
there  is  also  an  estai)lished  stajre  route  to  Bangor. 

The  next  place  on  the  St.  John  of  any  note  is  French 
Village.  It  usually  contains  a  thousand  souls — most  of  them 
Indians.  Thev  live  in  frame  and  lo^  houses,  and  thou<rh 
they  pretend  to  do  some  farming,  they  are  chiclly  engaged  in 
hunting  and  tishing.  They  are  a  good-looking  race,  speak 
English  lluently,  and  are  the  followers  of  a  (Jatholic  priest, 
who  lives  among  them,  and  oHiciates  in  a  small  chapel  which 
was  built  by  the  Jesuits  at  an  early  day.  This  society  is 
said  to  be  one  of  the  most  wealthy  in  the  province.  The 
chief  of  the  village  is  one  Louis  Beir.  lie  lives  in  a  very 
comfortable  and  well-furnished  house,  is  rather  a  handsome 
man,  dresses  in  a  half-savage  manner,  and  while  he  offers 
his  visitor  a  comfortable  chair,  he  invariably  seats  himself 
upon  the  floor  in  the  true  Indian  fashion. 

Fredericklon  is  at  the  head  of  the  steamboat  navigation, 
and  distant  from  St.  John  eighty  miles.  Between  tliese  two 
places  there  runs  a  morning  and  evening  boat,  and  the  sum- 
mer travel  is  quite  extensive.  Frederickton  contains  about 
eight  thousand  inhabitants,  composed,  principally,  of  Irish, 
Scotch  and  English.  It  contains  three  principal  streets,  run- 
ning north  and  south,  and  some  half  dozen  handsome  public 
buildings,  including  an  Episcopal  church,  after  the  Tuscan 
order,  a  court  house  and  a  college.  The  town  is  situated 
on  a  level  plain,  and  its  suburbs  are  made  exceeding  beautiful 
by  the  number  of  rural  residences  which  attract  the  eye  in 
every  direction.  The  elm  and  poplar  both  seem  to  flourish 
here,  and  add  much  to  the  picluresqueness  of  the   place  and 


I 


196 


A  TOUR  TO  THE   RIVER  SAGUENAY. 


vicinity.  The  business  of  Frederickton  is  only  of  a  second- 
rate  character,  and  it  has  become  what  it  is,  merely  from  ihe 
fact  that  it  has  heretofore  been  the  seat  of  government.  This 
fact  has  also  had  a  tendency  to  collect  a  good  society  in  the 
place,  and  its  "  ton,"  thongh  in  a  small  way,  have  been  dis- 
posed to  cut  quite  a  dash.  The  ''mother  Parliament,"  I  be- 
lieve, has  recently  removed  the  seat  of  government  to  St. 
John,  and  the  lovers  of  Frederickton  are  sorry  and  a  little 
angry. 

The  city  of  St.  John  stands  at  the  mouth  of  the  river  of 
that  name,  and  is  also  laved  by  the  waters  of  the  Bay  of 
Fundy.  I  hate  cities,  but  suppose  that  I  must  stop  a  moment 
in  the  one  alluded  to.  It  is  a  business  place,  planted  among 
rocks,  contains  some  twenty  thousand  inhabitants,  (two-thirds 
of  whom  are  Irish,)  and  in  this  port,  at  the  present  time,  is 
moored  a  fleet  of  two  hundred  ships.  Its  public  buildings 
are  numerous,  the  finest  of  which  are  th'»  court  house,  an 
Episcopal  church  of  the  Doric  order,  another  after  the  Goth- 
ic, and  a  Presbyterian  church  after  the  Corinthian  order. 
The  city  is  defended  by  a  fortress,  which  presents  a  hand- 
some appearance  as  you  approach  the  port.  The  merchants 
of  the  place  are  chiefly  employed  in  the  square  timber  trade, 
and  have,  heretofore,  done  an  extensive  business.  This  trade, 
however,  1  am  inclined  to  believe,  is  rapidly  running  out. 
On  the  opposite  side  of  the  St.  John  River  is  a  picturesque 
point  or  hill,  which  is  called  Carlton  Hill.  It  is  surmounted 
by  a  massive  block-house,  and  commands  an  extensive  view 
of  the  Bay  of  Fundy,  the  spring  tides  of  which  rise  to  the 
height  of  sixty  feet,  and  when  coming  in,  make  a  terrible 
roar. 


I 


aiu 


CHAPTER     XXIII. 


The  Penobscot  River. 


Off  the  Const  of  Maine,  July. 

One  week  ajro  I  was  fightinfr  with  iniisquitoes  and  (lies, 
on  the  head  waters  of  the  I'enobscot,  and  now  that  I  am 
upon  the  ocean  once  more,  I  fancy  that  my  feehni(.s  are  allied 
to  those  of  an  old  moose  that  I  lately  saw  stanihnij  in  a  moun- 
tain lake,  with  the  water  up  to  his  chin.  The  noble  river 
which  I  have  mentioned,  is  all  my  fancy  painted  it,  and  in 
spite  of  its  insect  inhabitants,  I  shall  ever  remember  it  with 
pleasure. 

The  length  of  this  stream  from  the  mouth  of  its  bay  to 
where  its  principal  branches  come  tofrother,  is  al)out  one 
hundred  and  forty  miles;  from  this  junction,  to  the  fountain 
head  of  the  west  branch,  the  distance  is  supposed  to  be  one 
hundred  and  fifty  miles,  while  the  east  branch  is  probably 
only  one  hundred  miles  in  len4rih.  lioth  of  these  streams 
rise  in  the  midst  of  a  mountain  wilderness,  looming  above 
which  is  old  Kathaden,  the  loftiest  mountain  in  Maine,  and 
elder  brother  to  Mount  Washington,  in  New  Hampshire. 
The  mountain  is  distant  from  Moosehead  Lake  only  about 
twenty  miles,  but  it  towers  into  the  sky  so  grandly,  that 
nearly  all  the  people  who  inhabit  the  northern  part  of  Maine 
look  upon  it  as  a  familiar  friend.     The  two  branches  of  the 


19R 


A  TOUR  TO  THE  RIVER  SAGUENAY. 


I     I' 


II  ; 


H 


'    \ 


Penobsnot  run  through  a  mountainous  region,  both  of  thorn 
abounding  in  rapids,  ihougli  tlic  west  branch  contains  a  num- 
ber of  picturesque  falls.  'J'he  soil  of  this  region,  gcneraily 
speaking,  is  good,  but  remains  in  its  original  wildncss. 
Its  stationary  inhabitants  are  few  and  far  between ;  but  it 
gives  employment  to  al)out  three  tiiousand  lumbermen.  They 
spend  the  winter  wielding  the  axe  in  the  forests,  and  the 
spring  and  summer  in  driving  down  the  stream  logs  which 
they  have  prepared  for  tiie  saw-mills,  which  are  mostly 
located  on  the  lower  part  of  the  Penobscot.  IVine  months 
in  the  year  they  labor  without  ceasing,  but  usually  appro- 
})riate  to  themselves  a  play  spell  of  three  months,  which  is 
the  entire  autumn.  They  a;e  u  young  and  powerfully  built 
race  of  men,  mo.-iily  New  Knglanders,  generally  unmarried, 
and,  though  rude  in  their  manner,  and  intemperate,  are  quite 
intelligent.  Tiiey  seem  to  have  a  passion  for  their  wild  and 
toilsome  life,  and,  judging  from  their  dresses,  I  should  think 
possess  a  fine  eye  for  the  comic  and  fantastic.  'J'he  entire 
apparel  of  an  individual  usually  consists  of  a  pair  of  gray 
pantaloons  and  two  red  flannel  shirts,  a  pair  of  long  boots, 
and  a  woollen  covering  for  the  head,  and  all  these  things  are 
worn  atone  and  the  same  time.  The  head-covering  alluded 
to,  when  first  purchased,  is  what  might  be  called  a  hat,  but 
the  wearers  invariably  take  particular  pains  to  transform  the 
article  into  such  queer  shapes  as  to  render  it  indescribable. 
Sometimes  they  take  the  crown  and  tie  it  in  the  shape  of  a 
fool's  cap,  and  sometimes  they  trim  the  rims  with  a  jack 
knife  into  many  diflerent  fashions.  Their  wages  vary  from 
twenty  to  thirty  dollars  per  month,  and  they  are  chiefly  em- 
ployed by  the  lumber  merchants  of  Bangor,  who  furnish 
them  with  necessary  supplies. 

The  Penobscot,  I  suppose,  is  unquestionably  the  most 
fruitful  lumber  river  in  the  United  States,  and  its  pine  and 
hemlock  forests  seem  yet  to  be  inexhaustible;  and  the  State 


s 


THE  PENOBSCOT  RIVER. 


199 


of  Maine  is  iiulcbted  to  tlu;  lumber  business  for  many  of  its 
beautiful  cities  and  towns. 

P'rom  the  Forks  of  the  Peno1)scot  to  Banfror,  tlie  distance 
IS  about  sixty  miles.  This  portion  of  the  river  is  nearly  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  wide.  The  banks  are  rather  low  and  level, 
and  somewhat  eultivated.  The  water  is  deep  ;uul  clear,  atul 
the  current  stroiifr.  (»eiicrally  speakin<r,  the  sceiierv  of  the 
river  is  not  remarkable,  and  were  it  not  for  the  numerous 
islands,  it  mij^ht  be  considered  tame,  by  the  lover  of  a  moun- 
tain land.  The  islands  alluded  to,  however,  arc  exciM'dintrly 
beautiful.  Covered  as  they  are  witli  venera!)le  elms,  and 
containinn^  no  underbrush,  but  a  continuous  plot  of  ^reen, 
they  have  all  the  appearance  of  cultivated  parks.  The  stajre 
route  from  Woodstock,  after  reachinir  the  Pciioljscot,  con- 
tinues alonfj  the  eastern  bank,  and  as  the  coaches  are  com- 
fortable,  and  the  horses  <i[ood,  the  ride  is  (juite  pleasant. 
The  principal  villatre,  of  which  there  are  four,  is  Old  Town. 
It  is  a  busy  little  place,  and  the  present  termination  of  a  rail- 
road from  IJaniror,  which  is  twelve  miles  distant.      Directly 


o 


PP 


OS 


ite  Old  Town  is  a  small  island,  where   resides  a  re 


m- 


nant  of  the  Penobscot  Indians.  They  numi)er  some  four 
hundred  souls,  and  are  just  sulTiciently  civilized  to  lead  a  very 
miserable  sort  of  life. 

I  come  now  to  speak  of  Baniror.  It  is  a  well  built,  and 
handsome  city,  eighty  miles  from  the  ocean,  and  contains 
about  eii,dit  thousand  inhabitants.  It  is  at  the  head  of  tide 
wp^er  navination,  and  has  a  good  harbor,  where  I  counted, 
from  one  point,  nearly  two  hundred  sails.  The  principal 
article  of  trade  is  lumber,  which  is  distinguislu^d  for  its  ^ood 


lua 


litioj 


All   tl 


le    heaviest   mere 


hant 


s   are    (Migatre 


in 


th( 


lumber  trade,  and  almost  everybody  deals  in  it  to  a  limited 
extent.  A  few  thousand  shiufrles  will  pay  your  tailor  for  a 
coat,  a  few  loads  of  plank  will  settle  your  account  with  the 


200 


A  TOUR  TO  THE  RIVER  SAGUENAY. 


i  i 


i  I 


il 


butcher,  and  bundles  of  clap-boards  are   gladly  received  by 
the  grocer,  in  excliange  for  his  sugar  and  tea. 

With  the  people  of  Bangor  I  was  very  much  pleased. 
Tiieir  manners  and  habits  are  stamped  with  the  true  New 
England  character;  they  mind  their  own  business,  and  are 
distinguished  for  their  intelligence,  virtue  and  hospitality. 
When  I  reached  this  place,  my  beard  was  more  tlun  half  as 
long  as  that  of  the  W^andering  Jew,  and  it  took  me  nearly  a 
whole  day  to  forgot  the  bad  French  wliich  I  had  acquired  in 
Canada  and  New  Brunswick,  and  transform  myself  into  the 
semblance  of  a  civilized  man.  I  had  been  in  the  woods  for 
so  long  a  time,  that  I  seized  the  first  paper  I  saw  to  find  out 
whether  1  had  forgotten  to  read.  You  may  readily  imagine, 
therefore,  what  a  refreshing  eflcct  the  appearance  and  con- 
Tcrsation  of  intelligent  people  had  upon  my  feelings.  But 
the  class  of  citizens  who  made  the  deepest  impression  upon 
me,  were  the  children  of  Bangor.  I  met  them  at  every  cor- 
ner, and  heard  their  happy  voices  in  every  dwelling,  and  a 
more  perfectly  beautiful  race  of  creatures  I  never  before  saw 
in  any  city. 

The  distance  from  Bangor  to  the  ocean  is  eighty  miles. 
For  twenty  miles,  the  river  averages  three  quarters  of  a  mile 
in  width,  when  it  gradually  widens  into  an  expansive  bay  or 
gulf.  The  water  is  deep,  always  covered  with  vessels,  and 
abounds  in  salmon,  which  are  taken  only  with  the  net.  The 
shores  are  hilly  and  well  cultivated,  and  the  towns  of  Bucks- 
port,  Frankfort,  Belfast,  and  Thomaston,  as  you  pass  them, 
present  each  a  thriving  and  pleasant  appearance. 


i! 


t        K 


-UP 


-™J>' 


CHAPTER     XXIV. 


Moosehead  Lake  and  the  Kenncbeck  River. 


Pari  land,  .August. 

Moosehead  Lake  is  the  lari^est  and  tlic  wildest  in  New 
Englariil.  It  lies  in  the  central  portion  of  the  Slate  of  Maine, 
and  distant  from  the  ocean  about  one  hundred  and  lifiv  miles. 
Its  length  is  fifty  miles,  and  its  width  from  five  to  fifteen. 
It  is  embosomed  among  a  brotherhood  of  mountains,  whose 
highest  peak  hath  been  christened  with  the  beautiful  name 
of  Kathadcn.  All  of  them,  from  base  to  summit,  are  covered 
with  a  dense  forest,  in  which  the  pine  is  by  far  the  most 
abundant.  It  is  the  grand  centre  of  a  vast  wilderness  region, 
whose  principal  denizens  are  wild  beasts.  During  the  sum- 
mer months,  its  tranquil  waters  remain  in  luibroken  solitude, 
unless  some  scenery-hunting  j  :i<;;rlm,  like  myself,  happens  to 
steal  along  its  shores  in  his  birchen  canoe.  But  in  the  winter, 
the  case  is  very  diiFerent,  for  then,  all  along  its  borders,  may 
be  heard  the  sound  of  the  axe,  wielded  by  a  thousand  men. 
Then  it  is  that  an  immense  quantity  of  logs  are  cut,  which 
are  manufactured  into  lumber  at  the  extensive  mills  down 
the  Kenncbeck,  which  is  the  only  outlet  of  the  lake. 

A  winter  at  Moosehead  must  be  attended  with  much  that 
is  rare,  and  wild,  and  exciting,  not  only  to  the  wealthy  pro- 
prietor who  has  a  hundred  men  to  superintend,  but  even  to 


202 


A  TOUR  TO  TJIE   RIVER  SAfJUENAY. 


I  I 


*i' 


i      I 


li   ' 


•k 


the  toilintr  cliopper  hirnsolf.  liook  at  a  siiiirlc  sprriinon  of 
llu;  jrladdcn'mfr  scenes  enacted  in  tliat  forest  world.  It  is  an 
awful  ni<.Hit,  llio  winds  wailinjr,  tho  snow  faliinjj,  and  the  for- 
ests making  a  moan.  IJeforc  you  is  a  spacious,  hut  rudely 
built  log  cahin,  almost  covered  with  snow.  But  now,  ahove 
the  shriek  of  the  storm,  and  the  howl  of  the  wolf,  you  hear 
a  loiiiT,  loud  shout,  from  a  score  of  human  mouths.  You 
enter  the  cahin,  and  lo,  a  merry  band  of  nohle  men,  some 
lying  on  a  hutfalo-rohc,  and  some  seated  upon  a  loir,  while 
the  huge  fire  before  them  r(!veals  every  feature  and  wrinkle 
of  their  countenances,  and  makes  a  picture  of  the  ricliest 
coloring.  Now  the  call  is  for  a  song,  and  a  young  man  sings 
a  song  of  Scotland,  which  is  his  native  lanil ;  a  mug  of  cider 
then  goes  round,  after  which  an  old  pioneer  clears  his  throat 
for  a  hunting  legend  of  the  times  of  old;  now  the  cunning 
jest  is  heard,  and  peals  of  hearty  laughter  shake  the  building; 
and  now  a  soul-stirring  speech  is  delivered  in  favor  of  Henry 
Clay.  The  lire-place  is  again  replenished,  when,  with  a 
happy  and  contented  mind,  each  woodman  retires  to  his  couch, 
to  sleep,  and  to  dream  of  his  wife  and  children,  or  of  the 
buxom  damsel  whom  he  loves. 

The  number  of  logs  wdiich  these  men  cut  in  a  sin<>lc  winter, 
is  almost  incredible,  and  the  business  of  conveying  them  to  the 
lake  upon  the  snow  gives  employment  to  a  great  many  additional 
men  and  their  oxen.  The  consequence  is,  that  large  quan- 
tities of  flour,  potatoes,  pork,  and  hay,  are  consumed;  and  as 
these  things  are  mostly  supplied  by  the  farmers  of  the  Kenne- 
beck,  winter  is  the  busiest  season  of  the  year  throughout  the 
region.  When  the  lake  is  released  from  its  icy  fetters  in 
the  spring,  a  new  feature  of  the  logging  business  comes  into 
operation,  which  is  called  rafting.  A  large  raft  contains 
about  eighteen  thousand  logs,  and  covers  a  space  of  some 
ten  acres.  In  towing  them  to  the  Kennebeck,  a  small  steam- 
boat is  employed,  which,  when  seen  from  the  summit  of  a 


MOOSEHEAD  LAKE. 


203 


hill,  looks  liko  ;i  liviii«r  croatiire  struL^uliti!:  uilli  a  iiiiuhlv 
incuhus.  lUit  the  most  pictiir('S([iic  thiiiij  comicctcd  with 
this  husinoss  is  a  lloatiiiff  loir-rahiii,  called  a  Rait  Iloiisr, 
wiiich  ovor  attonils  a  raft  on  its  way  to  tho  ri\(  r.  During 
the  Slimmer,  as  before  stated,  Moosehead  liake  is  a  perfect 
solitude,  for  the  '•  loi^-chopper"  has  become  a  '*  1<\2'  diiver"  on 
the  Keimebeck — the  little  steamer  haviriLC  been  moored  in 
its  shelterini^  bay,  near  the  tavern  at  tlie  soiilli  end  of  the 
lake,  and  the  toilini^  oxen  been  permitted  to  enjoy  their  sum- 
mer sabbath  on  the  farm  of  their  master. 

The  islands  of  Moosehead  T^ake,  of  any  size,  ar(>  only  four: 
Moose  and  Deer  Islands  at  the  southern  extremity,  Sufrar 
Island  in  the  lar<re  eastern  bay,  and  Farm  Island  in  a  north- 
western direction  from  that.  All  of  these  are  covered  with 
beautiful  jrroves,  but  the  time  is  not  far  distant  when  they 
will  be  cultivated  farms.  Trout  are  the  principal  fish  that 
flourish  in  its  waters,  and  maybe  eau«rht  at  any  time  in  great 
abundance.     And    thertdjy  han<(s  -a  fish  story. 

It  was  the  sunset  hour,  and  with  one  of  my  companions, 
I  had  gone  to  a  rocky  ledge  for  the  purpose  of  trying  my  luck. 
Our  bait  was  squirrel  meat,  and  I  was  the  first  to  throw  the 
line.  It  had  hardly  reached  the  water,  before  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  striking  and  securing  a  two  pound  trout.  This 
threw  my  friend  into  a  perfect  fever  of  excitement,  so  that 
he  was  everlastingly  slow  in  cutting  up  the  scpiirrel;  and  it 
may  be  readily  supposed  that  I  was  somewhat  excited  myself; 
80  I  grabbed  the  animal  out  of  his  hands,  and  in  less  than  a 
"jifl^y,"  and  with  my  Iceth,  made  a  number  of  good  baits. 
The  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter  was,  that  in  less  than 
forty  minutes  we  had  caught  nearly  seventy  pounds  of  sal- 
mon trout.  But  the  fish  of  Moosehead  are  not  to  be  com- 
pared with  tliose  of  Iloricon  in  point  of  delicacy,  though 
they  are  very  large,  and  very  abundant.  The  reason  of  this 
is,  that  its  waters  are  not  remarkably  clear,  and  a  good  deal 


204 


A  TOUR  TO  THE   RIVER  SAOUENAY. 


i 


! 


H 


I    1 


u 


of  its  bottom  is  imuldy.  Moose  River,  which  is  the  princi- 
|)al  tributary  of  the  Lake,  is  a  narrow,  deep,  and  picturesque 
stream,  where  may  be  caugiit  the  common  trout,  weigliing 
from  one  to  five  pounds. 

In  this  portion  of  Maine  every  variety  of  forest  game  may 
be  found  ;  but  the  principal  kinds  are  tlie  gray  wolf,  the  black 
bear,  the  deer,  and  the  moose.  Winter  is  the  appropriate 
season  for  their  capture,  when  ihey  afford  a  deal  of  sport  to 
the  hunter,  and  furnish  a  variety  of  food  to  the  forest  laborers. 
Deer  arc  so  very  plenty,  that  a  certain  resident  told  me,  that, 
in  the  deep  snow  of  last  winter,  he  caught  some  dozen  of 
them  alive,  and  having  cut  a  slit  in  their  ears,  let  them  go, 
that  they  might  recount  to  their  kindred  their  marvellous 
escape.  IJut  the  homeliest  animal,  the  most  abundant,  and 
the  best  for  eating,  is  the  moose.  I  did  not  kill  one,  but 
spent  a  night  with  an  old  hunter  who  did.  During  the  warm 
summer  night,  these  animals,  for  the  purpose  of  getting  clear 
of  the  black  fly,  are  in  the  habit  of  taking  to  the  water,  where, 
with  nothing  but  their  heads  in  sight,  they  remain  for  hours. 
It  was  the  evening  of  one  of  those  cloudless  nights  whose 
memory  can  never  die.  We  were  alone  far  up  ttie  Moose 
River,  and  it  seemed  to  me,  "  we  were  the  first  that  ever 
burst  into  {haiforest  sea."  On  board  a  swan-like  birch  canoe 
we  embarked,  and  with  our  rifles  ready,  we  carefully  and 
silently  descended  the  stream.  How  can  I  describe  the 
lovely  pictures  that  w^e  passed?  Now  we  peered  into  an 
ink-black  recess  in  the  centre  of  a  group  of  elms,  where  a 
thousand  fire-flies  were  revelling  in  joy ; — and  now  a  solitary 
duck  shot  out  into  the  stream  from  its  hidden  home,  behind 
a  fallen  and  decayed  tree;  now  we  w^atched  the  stars  mirrored 
in  the  sleeping  waves,  and  now  we  listened  to  the  hoot  of 
the  owl,  the  drum  of  the  partridge,  the  song  of  a  distant 
water-fall,  or  the  leap  of  a  robber-trout.  It  was  not  far  from 
midnight  when  my  companion  whispered,  "  Hush,  hush !" 


THE  RIVER  KENNFRECK. 


205 


se 


!r 


e 
n 


f 
t 

I) 


and  pointod  to  a  dim  spot  some  luindrpd  yards  hrlow.  The 
first  clianco  was  allotted  me,  so  I  took  the  best  aim  I  eoiiUl, 
and  fired.  I  he:ird  the  ball  skip  aloni^  the  water,  and  on 
comint^  near,  found  my  mark  to  be  only  a  smooih  roek. 
Two  hours  more  passed  on,  one  small  moose  was  killed, 
and  at  day-break  wc  were  in  our  eabin  fast  asleep. 

The  principal  outlet  of  iMoosehead  fiake  is  the  Keimcbeck, 
whieh  now  "  demands  my  soncr."  It  is  the  second  river  in 
Maine,  and  one  of  the  most  beautiful  I  have  ever  seen.  In- 
stead of  watering  a  wilderness,  as  I  had  supposed,  all  alon<r 
its  valley,  for  over  a  hundred  miles,  are  fertile  and  extensive 
farms,  with  here  and  there  a  thrivinj^  village,  inlsabited  by  an 
intelligent  and  industrious  people.  Its  principal  tributary  is 
Dead  River,  and  the  spot  at  the  junction  of  the  two  is  called 
the  Forks.  The  cultivated  region  stops  liere,  and  between 
this  point  and  Moosehead,  the  distance  is  about  twenty-five 
miles,  and  this  portion  is  yet  a  forest  wilderness. 

The  principal  attraction  at  the  Forks  is  a  capital  tavern, 
kept  by  one  Burnham,  who  is  a  capital  fellow  to  guide  the 
lover  of  Nature,  or  the  trout  fisherman,  to  Moxy  Fall  or 
Nameless  Lake,  which  are  in  the  immediate  vicinitv.  The 
mountains  about  here  are  quite  lofty,  and  exceedingly  pictur- 
esque, abounding  in  the  maple,  the  oak,  the  pine  and  hem- 
lock. Emptying  into  the  Kennebeck,  a  few  miles  north  of 
the  Forks,  is  a  superb  mountain  stream,  named  Moxy,  after 
an  Indian  who  was  there  drowned  many  years  ago.  Wind- 
ing for  a  long  distance  among  wild  ravines,  and  eternally 
singing  to  the  woods  a  trumpet  song,  it  finally  makes  a  sud- 
den plunge  into  a  chasm  more  than  a  hundred  feet  in  depth. 
The  perpendicular  rocks  on  either  side  rise  to  an  immense 
height,  their  tops  crowned  with  a  "  peculiar  diadem  of  trees," 
and  their  crevices  filled  up  with  dark-green  verdure,  whence 
occasionally  issues,  hanging  gracefully  in  the  air,  beautiful 
festoons  of  the  ivy,  and  clusters  of  the  mountain  blue-bell. 


:'  % 


lU 


s 


206 


A  TOUR  TO  THE  RIVER  SAOUENAY. 


The  depth  of  the  pool  was  never  told,  and  its  waters  wash 
against  the  granite  walls  in  a  perpetual  gloom.  On  one 
occasion  1  visited  it  when  there  was  a  high  freshet,  and  saw 
what  I  could  hardly  have  believed  from  a  description.  I 
stood  on  an  elevated  point,  in  front  of  the  Fall,  when  my 
eyes  rested  upon  an'immense  log,  some  sixty  feet  long, com- 
ing down  the  foaming  stream  with  all  the  fury  of  a  maddened 
steed;  presently  it  reached  the  precipice, — then  cleaved  its 
airy  ])athway  down  into  the  hell  of  waters, — was  completely 
out  of  sight  for  at  least  two  minutes;  then,  like  a  creature  en- 
dowed with  life,  it  sliot  upward  again,  clear  out  of  the  water, 
made  another  less  desperate  plunge,  and  quietly  pursued  its 
course  into  the  Kennebeck. 

In  speaking  of  Nameless  Lake,  it  is  necessary  that  I  should 
be  a  little  egotistical.  It  is  a  fairy-like  sheet  of  pure  water 
in  the  heart  of  tlic  mountain  wilderness,  only  about  a  mile 
in  length,  but  full  of  trout.  The  proprietor  was  of  the  party 
that  accompanied  me  on  my  first  visit.  While  approaching 
it,  the  remark  was  made  that  it  was  yet  without  a  name ; 
when  it  was  agreed  that  it  should  be  christened  after  that 
individual  who  should  on  that  day  throw  the  most  successful 
fly.  As  fortune  would  have  it,  the  honor  was  awarded  to 
me  ;  and  on  a  guide-board  in  ijie  forest,  three  miles  from 
Burnham's,  may  be  seen  the  figure  of  a  hand,  and  the  words 
"  Lake  Lanman."  There  stands  my  written  name,  exposed 
"  to  the  ptdtings  of  the  pitiless  storm  ;"  and  in  a  few  years, 
at  the  longest,  it  will  be  washed  away,  ajid  the  tree  which 
supports  it  be  mingling  with  the  dust.  Will  it  be  even  thus 
with  the  mcmori)  of  my  name? 

Not  to  attem  pt  a  description  of  the  scenery  of  the  Kennebeck, 
which  could  be  faithfully  given  only  by  the  pictures  of  a  Cole 
or  Durand,  I  will  take  my  readers  down  its  beautiful  valley, 
and  tell  them  what  I  know  respecting  its  beautiful  villages. 

The  first  in  order  is  Bingham,  situated  on  a  fertile  '*  inter- 


M 


THE  RIVER  KENNEBECK. 


207 


S 

d 


val,"  surrounded  willi  picturesque  liills,  clianuin*^  and  (|uiet 
as  a  summer  day,  and  containing  williin  the  jurisdiction  of 
its  town  an  uncommonly  tine  farm,  belonging  to  a  Mr.  l*ar- 
lin,  wiio  manufactures  large  quantities  of  maple  sugar. 

Solon  is  the  next  village  in  the  Kenncbeck  valley,  remark- 
able for  nothing  but  Caritunk  Falls,  which  are  twenty  feet 
high,  and  run  through  a  gorge  fifty  feet  wide.  Here  1  saw 
some  twenty  men  "  driving"  the  logs  that  had  been  lodged 
all  along  the  river  when  it  was  low.  It  is  a  laborious  life 
which  these  men  lead,  but  they  receive  good  pay,  and  meet 
with  many  interesting  adventures.  They  generally  have  the 
soul  to  enjoy  fine  scenery,  and  therefore  demand  the  respect 
of  the  intellicrent  traveller. 

Anson,  though  in  the  valley  of  the  Kcnnebeck,  is  situated 
on  Seven  Mile  Brook,  and  is  a  nourishing  business  place. 
From  its  neighboring  hills  may  be  seen  the  sky-piercing 
peaks  of  Mount  Blue,  Saddleback,  Bigelow  and  Mount  Abra- 
ham, which  are  the  guardian  spirits  of  Maine.  The  town  is 
distinguished  for  its  agricultural  enterprise,  and  the  abundance 
of  its  wheat,  having  actually  produced  more  than  is  reported 
from  any  other  town  in  the  State. 

Norridgwock,  so  named  by  the  Kennebeck  Indians,  be- 
cause, when  fighting  with  their  enemies  at  this  place,  they 
could  find  no-ridge-to-umlk  upon,  which  was  a  desirable  ob- 
ject. It  is  a  charming  little  village,  and  associated  with  a 
celebrated  Indian  chief  named  Bomazeen,  and  also  with  a 
Jesuit  missionary,  whose  name  I  do  not  remember.  Not  far 
from  here  is  a  picturesque  fall,  also  a  picturesque  bend  of  the 
Kennebeck,  where  empties  Sandy  River,  upon  which  are 
many  extensive  farms. 

Skowhegan  is  a  thriving  village,  where  there  are  fine  falls, 
which  I  could  never  look  upon  without  thinking  of  the  fa- 
mous Glen's  Falls  in  New  York,  of  which  they  are  a  per- 
fect counterpart,  though  on  a  smaller  scale.     Many  and  very 


208 


A  TOUR  TO  THE  RIVER  SAGUENAY. 


i 


: 


41 


dear  to  me  are  my  recollections  of  its  "choice  bits"  of  scen- 
ery, of  the  fine  singing  I  there  heard,  of  the  acquaintances 
there  formed,  and  of  the  pleasant  literary  communings  which 
were  mine  in  company  with  one  of  the  best  and  most  intel- 
lectual of  women,  and  who  has,  for  many  years,  been  my 
"guide,  coimselor,  and  friend." 

Waterville,  the  next  town  on  the  river,  is  the  seat  of  a 
Baptist  college,  and  the  head  of  navigation  on  account  of 
the  Ticonic  Falls.  It  is  the  centre  of  an  extensive  farming 
district,  which  fact,  together  with  the  literary  taste  of  its  peo- 
ple, makes  it  an  uncommonly  interesting  place. 

Augusta,  the  capital  of  the  State,  is  also  on  the  Kennebeck, 
and  with  its  Slate  House  and  other  state  buildings,  its  ad- 
mirably conducted  hotels,  its  commanding  churches,  its  large 
bridge,  and  pleasant  residences,  is  one  of  the  most  pictur- 
esque and  interesting  towns  in  the  whole  of  New  England. 

Hallowell,  two  miles  below  Augusta,  was  once  a  great 
place  for  business,  and  is  still  a  very  pleasant  town,  though 
unable  to  compete  with  its  rival  the  capital.  In  my  mind, 
it  is  chiefly  associated  with  some  fine  people,  and  particularly 
with  three  beautiful  sisters,  who  are  great  lovers  of  poetry, 
and  accomplished  musicians. 

Gardiner,  further  down,  is  a  tremendous  place  for  saw- 
mills ;  and  lumbering  I  look  upon  as  one  of  the  surest  kinds 
of  business.  It  contains  the  handsomest  church-building  in 
the  state,  and  a  number  of  fine  residences  belonging  to  its 
wealthy  citizens,  of  which  that  one  belonging  to  Mr.  Gardi- 
ner (after  whom  the  place  was  named),  is  the  finest. 

Bath  is  the  next  and  most  southern  town  on  the  Kenne- 
beck ;  it  is  quite  a  large  place,  where  there  is  a  great  deal  of 
shipping  done,  and  is  now  in  a  flourishing  condition.  The 
sail  down  the  river  from  here  is  a  most  delightful  one,  for 
the  eye  revels  on  a  continual  succession  of  pleasant  farms, 
quiet  headlands,  solitary  islands,  and  vessels   of  every  kind 


■^-      -_ _     J^'E   KE.VN-EHECK  RIVRR. 

'he  Koniiebcck  abouiuis  i,        l,/':.';"  ',"  ""■  '"-^-'  ''•■'>■- 
nets  A-or„  ,ho  f.rst  of  M-.v   ill  '      "'''  '"'  '■■"'^'''t  with 

^^i'l.  'ho   hook  i.  lliic  s  0      i        7""r-     ''"  "'''  ""■"■ 

.-;  cort.ii,  passage  ii,  *„;,/„,'  [!'"  '">■  "-'-  '<> 
the  rivors  that  I  love  moro    1      "'""/"•''"".?•     1'Vmv  are 

'--;o  .0  a.  its  .aiii,ras:t:;:,  ,;;:/--'''-'--^ -y 

of  literature   as   beiii.  ,he  „ "  I  '"'"<•«""?  to  the  lovers 

Mrs.  Seba  S™ith,  aiid  ti.rS."    ^"  "'  '"'•"'•  ^°"='-^'""-- 


14 


) 


Hi 


1! 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

A  fishing;  party  on  the  Tliainos — Wat<'li  Hill — IVi:;l)l  advonturos. 

yvriridi,  Conn..  Annual. 

A  FEW  mornings  ago,  just  as  the  snn  luul  risen  above  the 
eastern  iiills,  wliicli  look  clown  npon  the  Thames  at  Norwich, 
the  prettiest  sail-boat  oC  the  place  lei't  her  mooriniis,  and  with 
a  pleasant  northerly  breeze  started  for  the  Sonnd.  Her 
passengers  consisted  of  six  gcintleinen,  all  equii)ped  in  their 
sporting  jackets,  and  furnished  with  iisliing  tackle,  and  their 
place  of  destination  was  Watch  Hill,  which  is  a  point  of  land 
in  Kliode  Island,  extending  into  the  Atlantic,  a  few  miles 
from  Stoninglon.  AVe  were  on  a  fishing  frolic,  as  a  matter 
of  course,  and  a  happier  company,  I  ween,  were  never  yet 
afloat,  for  the  sport  of  a  morning  breeze.  What  with  the 
story,  the  jest,  the  iced  lemonade  and  exquisite  cigar,  the 
minutes  glided  by  as  swiftly  and  unobserved  as  the  tiny  waves 
around  us.  Now  we  met  a  solitary  fisherman,  towing  for 
bass,  and  as  we  hailed  him  wit!)  a  friendly  shout,  and  passed 
by,  he  began  to  talk  in  an  under  tone,  and  his  voice  did  not 
die  away  until  we  had  turned  a  point.  What  would  I  not 
give  for  an  accurate  record  of  that  old  man's  life  !  Anon,  we 
witnessed  the  soothing  picture  of  a  well-conducted  farm,  with 
its  green-girt  cottage,  spacious  barns,  neat  and  flowing  fields, 
and   its  horses  and  oxen,  cows,  sheep,  hogs,  and  poultry. 


SAILING  DOWN  THE  THAMES. 


211 


Now  wc  saw  some  nol)lf3  men,  such  as  Vernet  dc^liiihted  to 
paint,  liniilini^  the  seine,  and,  as  the  "fruit  of  all  tluMr  toil" 
were  thrown  npon  the  sand,  their  llippinir  forms  r{!llected 
back  the  sunlisrht,  remindin<;  us  of — anvthinu  the  reader  mav 
be  pleased  to  imagine.  Now,  we  were  overtaken  and  tossed 
about  by  a  steamer  bound  to  New  Haven ;  and  then  we 
sailed  in  company  with  a  boat,  a  sloop,  and  schooner ; 
meetinsf  otliers,  bealin<r  up,  from  Boston,  New  York,  and 
Philadelphia.  And  the  termination  of  this  pleasing  panorama 
was  composed  of  (male's  Ferry,  the  commanding  town,  fort, 
and  monument  of  Groton,  tojrether  wilfj  the  city  of  New 
London,  among  whose  anchored  shipping  floated  the  saucy 
Revenue  Cutter,  and  at  whose  docks  were  chained  a  goodly 
number  of  storm-beaten  whalers. 

Having  taken  in  "our  stores,"  and  obtained  from  the  fish- 
market  a  basket  of  bait,  we  again  hoisted  sail,  "  bound  first 
to  Commit  Rock,"  and  "  binding"  ourselves  to  capture  all  of 
the  watery  enemy  which  might  tempt  the  power  or  the  dex- 
terity of  our  arms. 

When  about  three  miles  from  New  London,  all  eyes  were 
attracted  by  a  beautiful  craft  on  our  lee,  laden  with  a  parly 
of  ladies  and  gentlemen.  "They're  going  towards  a  reef!" 
exclaimed  our  captain;  and  no  sooner  had  the  words  escaped 
his  lips,  than  the  stranger  struck,  and  stove  a  hole  through 
her  bottom.  AVe  were  just  in  time  to  save  the  party  from  a 
watery  grave;  and  when  we  had  landed  tlunn  in  safety  on 
the  beach,  we  were  well  repaid  for  our  trouble  by  the  con- 
sciousness of  having  done  a  good  act,  and  by  tlie  thankful 
words   and   beniii^nant  smiles  of  the   ladies    fair.     A   dozen 


minutes  more  and  we  were  within  oar's  lensfth  of  the  fishi 


"g 


rock.  "  All  ashore,  that's  coming  !"  shouted  our  mate  as 
he  stood  on  the  rock,  when  we  all  leaped  out,  and  plenty  of 
line  being  given  her,  the  boat  swung  to,  and  "like  a  cradled 
thing  at  rest,"  floated  upon  the   waves.     Then   commenced 


212  A  TOUR  TO  THE  RIVER  SAGUENAY. 

the  sport.  The  brorzo  was  rcfrrshins",  and  the  breath  of  the 
salt  sea-foam  buoyed  up  our  spirits  to  a  hiii^her  pitcii,  and 
gave  new  vii^or  to  our  sinews.  'J'he  you  nicest  of  the  party 
was  the  first  who  threw  liis  liook,  which  was  snapped  in  the 
twinklintr  of  an  eye.  Another  trial,  and  a  four-pound  blaek- 
fish  lay  extended  upon  the  rock.  Another,  and  another,  and 
another,  until  fourscore,  even-numbered,  came  followiiiir  after. 
Tired  of  the  sport,  two  of  the  party  entered  the  boat,  and 
hoisted  sail  for  a  little  cruize.  Half  an  hour  had  elapsed, 
wiien  the  steady  breeze  changed  into  a  frightful  i^ale,  capsiz- 
ing within  hailing  distance  a  lishing  boat  with  two  old  men 
in  it.  Hanging  on,  as  they  were,  to  the  keel  of  the  boat, 
(which,  luiving  no  ballast,  could  not  sink,)  their  situation  was 
extremely  dangerous,  as  there  was  not  a  vessel  within  two 
miles.  The  poor  men  beckoned  to  us  to  help  them ;  but  as 
our  boat  was  gone,  we  could  not  do  so,  which  of  course  we 
much  regretted.  For  one  long,  long  hour  did  they  thus  hang, 
"midway  betwixt  life  and  death,"  exposed  to  the  danger  of 
being  washed  away  by  the  remorseless  surge,  or  swallowed 
up,  as  we  were  afterwards  told,  by  a  couple  of  sharks,  which 
were  kept  away  only  by  the  hand  of  Providence.  This  in- 
cident tended  to  cool  our  ardor  for  fishing,  and  as  we  were 
satisfied  with  that  day's  luck,  we  put  up  our  gear,  during 
which  time  the  boat  arrived,  and  we  embarked  for  the  Hill. 
We  made  one  short  turn,  however,  towards  the  boat  which 
had  picked  up  the  fishermen,  as  we  were  anxious  to  tell  them 
why  wc  did  not  come  to  their  relief.  We  then  tacked  about, 
and  the  last  words  we  heard  from  our  companions  were : 
"Thank  you — thank  you — God  bless  you  all,"  and  until  we 
had  passed  a  league  beyond  Fisher's  Island,  our  little  vessel 
"carried  a  most  beautiful  bone  between  her  teeth." 

At  sunset  we  moored  our  little  boat  on  the  eastern  shore  of 
Paucatuck  Bay.  On  ascending  to  the  Watch  Hill  hotel,  we 
found  it  to  be  a  large,  well-furnished  house,  and  our  host  to 


WATCH  HILL. 


213 


be  a  fat  and  jolly  FalstaH'-ish  sort  of  man,  just  suited  to  his 
station.  At  seven  o'clock  we  sat  down  to  a  lirst-rate  hlack- 
tish  supper,  then  smoked  a  eiu'ar,  and  while  my  companions 
resorted  to  the  ten-pin  alley,  I  buttoned  up  my  pea-jacket, 
and  sallied  lorth  on  an  "  exploriuir  expedition,"  As  I  stood 
on  the  highest  point  of  the  peninsula,  facintr  the  south,  I 
found  that  the  li(Hit-housc  stood  ilirectlv  before  me,  on  the 
extreme  j)oint,  that  a  smooth  beach  faded  away  on  either  side, 
the  left  hand  one  beinir  washed  by  the  Atlantic,  and  that  on 
the  rif^ht  by  the  waters  of  Fisher  Island  Bay,  and  thai  the 
drearv  hills  in  my  rear  were  dotteil  bv  an  occasional  dwell- 
ino^.  The  breeze  had  died  awav,  anil  tin;  briirht,  full  moon 
was  in  the  cloudless  sky.  Many  sails  were  •  i  the  oning, 
passinir  by  and  beiuff  passed  by  the  Providence  and  Stonina- 
ton  steamboats  bound  to  New  York.  'J'he  scenery  around 
me,  and  the  loveliness  of  the  sky,  with  its  iralaxy  of  stars, 
caused  me  to  forjjet  myself,  and  I  wandered  far  away  upon 
the  shore — alone,  in  the  awful  presence  of  the  great  Atlantic 
Ocean.  No  sounds  fell  upon  my  ear,  save  the  mullled  roar 
of  the  ground  swell,  and  the  faint  whispers  of  the  tiny  waves 
as  they  melted  upon  the  sand.  I  traced  my  name,  and  be- 
side it  that  of  another,  a  being-  beauteous,  for  whose  cabinet 
of  curiosities  I  gathered  many  a  round,  smooth  pebble,  and 
many  a  delicate  sea-shell.  I  wandered  on,  now  gazing  with 
wontler  and  admiration  into  the  cerulean  vault  of  Heaven,  or 
into  the  still  deeper  blue  of  the  mighty  sea;  ami  now  sing- 
ing with  aloud  voice  one  of  the  sacred  songs  of  the  sweet  singer 
of  Israel.  Now,  a  thousand  images  of  surpassing  loveliness 
darted  across  my  vision,  as  I  thought  of  Clod — of  an  eternal 
life  in  heaven — and  of  love,  divine  and  human;  and  then 
there  came  a  weight  upon  my  spirit,  as  I  remembered  the 
powers  of  darkness,  the  destiny  of  the  condemned,  and  the 
miseries  engendered  by  our  evil  passions.  One  moment  I 
deemed  myself  immortal,  released  forever  from  the  contami- 


214 


A  TOUR  TO  THE   RIVER  SAGIENAV. 


ii 


nnlinir  influence  of  sin,  and  then  I  thouirht  of  the  valley  of 
death,  and  trembled.  Jii  that  eonimunion  witfi  the  mvsiteries 
of  the  universe,  stronji^lv  hlended  as  they  were,  I  felt  that  I 
coidd  wander  on  without  fatigue,  utitilthe  whole  earth  should 
ho  trodden  hy  my  pilirrim  feet,  liut  the  chilly  air  and  the 
fading  night  warned  me  to  retrace  my  steps,  and  in  an  hour 
I  had  reached  my  home. 

AVhen  the  sun  rose  frovi  his  ocean-bed  on  the  folio winjr 
mornini^,  surrounded  by  a  magnificent  array  of  clouds,  1  was 
up,  and  busily  engafrcd  preparing  for  a  day's  fishiuLS — first, 
and  before  breakfast,  for  bluefish,  then  for  bku'ktisli,  and 
lastly  for  bass.  While  my  companions  were  asleep,  I  went 
out  with  an  (tld  fish(>rman,  and  by  breakfast  time  had  captured 
thirty  bluefish,  weighing  about  two  pounds  a  piece.  The 
manner  of  catching  these  is  to  tow  for  them  with  a  long  line, 
the  bait  being  a  piece  of  ivory  attached  to  a  strong  hook. 
They  are  a  very  active  and  powerful  fish,  and  when  hooked, 
make  a  great  fuss,  skipping  and  leaping  out  of  the  water. 

At  nine  o'clock  our  party  were  at  anchor  on  a  reef  about 
one  mile  off,  and  for  the  space  of  about  two  hours  we  hauled 
in  the  blacklish  as  fast  as  possible,  many  of  them  weighing 
eight  to  ten  pounds  apiece.  For  them,  you  must  have  a  small 
straight  hook,  and  for  bait,  lobsters  or  crabs.  A  broiled 
blackfish,  when  rightly  cooked,  is  considered  one  of  the  best 
of  salt-water  delicacies. 

But  the  rarest  of  all  lishing  is  that  of  catching  l)ass,  and  a 
first-rate  specimen  I  was  permitted  to  enjoy.  About  eleven 
o'clock,  I  jumped  into  the  surf-boat  of  an  old  lisherman, 
requesting  him  to  pull  for  the  best  bass  ground  with  which 
he  was  acquainted.  In  the  mean  time  my  friends  had  ob- 
tained a  large  boat,  and  were  going  to  follow  us.  The  spot 
having  been  reached,  we  let  our  boat  float,  wherever  the 
tide  and  wind  impelled  it,  and  began  to  throw  over  our  lines, 
using  for  bait  the  skin  of  an  eel  six  inches  long.     Those  in 


BASS  FISHING. 


215 


the  neijjliboririij  bout  bad  fine  lurk,  as  tlu'V  tbonirbt,  liavintr 
caiigbt  .some  tlozon  five-pouiulcrs,  and  tbcy  scenu'd  to  be 
perfectly  transported  becanse  nearly  an  bour  bad  passed  and 
I  had  caiurbt  nolbiiiir.  In  their  yflec  they  raised  a  tremen- 
dous shout,  but  before  it  bad  I'airlv  (Hiul  awav,  tnv  line  was 
suddenly  straightened,  and  I  knew  that  I  had  a  prize.  .Now 
it  cut  the  water  like  a  streak  ol"  liubtnini;,  althouiih  there 
were  two  hundred  f(!et  out,  and  as  the  fish  returned  I  still 
kept  it  tautrbt ;  and  after  playin<r  with  him  for  about  forty 
minutes,  I  succeech'd  in  drownin<r  him,  then  hauled  uj)  irrailu- 
ally,  and  with  mv  boat  hook  landed  him  in  the  boat  safe  and 
sound.  The  length  of  that  striped  bass  was  four  feet  two 
inches,  and  his  weight,  before  cleaned,  fifty-eight  pounds. 
You  can  easily  imagine  the  chop-fallen  a[)pearance  of  n\y 
brother  fishermen,  when   thev  found  out   that  ''  the   race   is 


no 


t  alwavs  to  the   swift,  nor   the    battle  to  the  stroni 


At 


three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  a  piece  of  that  lish  tenih'd  to 
gratify  the  appetite  whicli  had  been  excited  by  his  capture. 

Satisfied  with  our  })iscatorial  sports,  we  concluded  to  spend 
ihe  rest  of  the  day  quietly  gatheritig  shells  upon  the  beach  ; 
but  causes  of  excitement  were  still  around  us.  ?So  sooner 
had  we  reached  the  water's  edge,  than  wc  discovered  a  group 
of  hardy  nuMi  standinir  on  a  little  knoll,  in  earnest  (^onversa. 


tion,  while  some  ol  tliem  wer(>  pointing  towards  the  sea 


Is  th 


41   'P 


o 


the  boat!  to  the  boat!"  suddenly  shouted  their  leader,  when 
they  all  descended  \'ith  the  speed  of  Swiss  moiiiil;;ineers, 
and  on  reaching  a  boat  which  had  been  made  ready,  they 
pushed  her  into  the  surf,  and  three  of  them  jumped  in,  and 
thus  commenced  the  interesting  scene  of  hauling  the  seine. 
Tliere  was  something  new  and  romantic  to  us  in  the  thouirht, 
that  the  keen  and  intelligent  eye  of  man  could  even  penetrate 
into  the  deep,  so  far  as  to  designate  the  course  of  travel  of 
the  tribes  of  the  sea.  And  when  the  seine  was  drawn,  it 
was  a  glorious  and  thrilling  sight  to  see  those  fishermen  tug- 


21G 


A  TOrU  TO  THE   RIVER  SAO  IE  NAY. 


Ill 


fr'wrr  at  tlic  liiicH,  OF  leap  into  the  surf,  wliieli  soinctiines  com- 
pl(;t('!y  covered  thorn,  to  secure  the  tens  of  lliousands  of  fish 
which  tliey  had  caui^lit.  Tliere  were  a  grace  and  heauty 
ahout  the  wliolc  scene,  which  made  me  h)n«r  fur  the  genius 
of  a  Mount  or  Edmonds. 

A  Htllo  before  sunset,  I  was  again  strolling  along  the  shore, 
when  the  following  incident  occurred.  You  will  please 
return  wiih  me  to  the  spot,  bonder,  on  that  fisherman's 
stake,  a  litUc  sparrow  has  just  alighted,  facing  tiie  main.  It 
has  been  lured  away  from  the  green  bowers  of  home  by  the 
music  of  die  sea,  and  is  now  gazing,  perhaj)S  with  feelings 
kindred  to  my  own,  upon  this  most  nuignilic'cnt  structure  of 
the  Almighty  hand.  See!  if  spreads  its  wing,  and  is  now 
darting  towards  the  water — fearh^ss  and  free.  Ah!  it  has 
gone  too  near!  for  the  spray  moistens  its  ])lumes!  There — 
there  it  goes,  frightened  back  to  its  native  woodland.  That 
little  bird,  so  far  as  its  power  and  importance  are  concerned, 
seems  to  me  a  fit  emblem  of  the  mind  of  man,  and  this  great 
ocean  an  npj)ropriate  symbol  of  the  mind  of  (iod. 

The  achievements  of  the  human  mind  "  have  iheir  passing 
paragraplis  of  praise,  and  are  forgotten."  Man  may  point  to 
the  Pyramids  of  Egypt,  which  are  the  admiration  of  the  world, 
and  exclaim,  "  Behold  the  symbol  of  my  power  and  import- 
ance!" But  most  impotent  is  the  boast.  Those  mighty 
mysteries  stand  in  the  solitude  of  the  desert,  and  the  fflorv  of 
their  destiny  is  fulfilled  in  casting  a  temporary  shadow  over 
the  tent  of  the  wandering  Arab. 

The  achievements  of  the  Almighty  mind  are  beyond  the 
compreliension  of  man,  and  lasting  as  his  own  eternity.  The 
spacious  firmament,  with  its  suns,  and  moons,  and  stars  ;  our 
globe,  with  its  oceans,  and  mountains,  and  rivers;  the  regu- 
larly revolving  seasons  ;  and  the  still,  small  voice  continually 
ascending  from  universal  nature,  all  proclaim  the  power  and 
goodness  of  their  great  original.     And  everything  which  God 


[liii 


M 


THK  STORM. 


217 


has  created,  from  the  nameless  insert  to  the  worlil  of  waters, 
wliicli  is  the  hit^hwav  of  nations,  was  created  for  irood,  was 
created  to  accomplisli  some  omnipotent  end.  As  this  ocean 
is  measureless  and  fathomless,  so  is  it  an  emblem,  beautiful 
bnt  faint,  of  that  wonderful  Heino-,  whose  throne  is  above  the 
milky-way,  and  who  is  himself  from  everlastinir  to  everlast- 
ing. Hut  sec,  there  is  a  heavy  cloud  risincr  in  ijic  west,  the 
breeze  is  fresheninjr,  flocks  of  wild  ducks  are  llvinir  inhind, 
and  the  upper  air  is  riniiinir  with  the  shrill  whistle  of  the 
bold  and  wikl  sca-»rull,  whose  home  is  the  i)oundless  sea ; 
therefore;,  as  my  dear  friend  \oblc  has  somewluM-e  written, 
"  the  shortest  homeward  track's  tlie  best." 

Still  in  the  present  tense  would  I  continue.  The  witchinor 
hour  of  midniahl  has  airain  returned.  A  cold  rain-storm  has 
just  passed  over,  the  moon  is  airain  the  mistress  of  a  cloud- 
less sky,  but  the  wind  is  still  raging  in  all  its  fury. 

"I  view  the  ships  tliat  coirio  and  go, 
Lodkiiii;- so  like  to  livinj;  things. 
()!   'tis  a  proud  and  ^^allant  slmw 
Ot' l)i"ight  and  brnad-s])n'ad  \vin;_'s, 
Making'  it  hL-'ht  around  thi'm,  a>  they  keep 
Thiir  cuurjio  right  (jnward  tiirougli  thu  un-oundod  deep." 


Da 


na. 


God  be  with  them  and  their  brave  and  jrallant  crews.     But, 
again : 

'Where  the  iav-oil'  .-anddijirs  Hl'i 

Their  hael;?  in  long  and  narrow  hue, 
Tlie  breakers  .-hont.  and  leaji.  and  slnl't. 

And  >{'])t\  the  ?-parkhnir  brine 
Lito  the  air;  tlien  rnsli  to  niiinie  strife; 
Glail  creatures  of  tlie  sea,  and  luU  of  life !"" — [bid. 


But  I  must  stop  quoting  poetry,  for  as  "  a  thing  of  beauty 


218 


A  TOUR  TO  THE   RIVER  SAOT'ENAY. 


I 


is  a  joy  forever,"  I  .should  be  lorever  writiiiir  about  the  sea. 
Heavens  !  what  a  terrible  sowr  is  the  oeean  sinj^iiijr,  with 
his  lon<^  white  hair  streaininir  in  the  wind!  The  wavinjr, 
sj)hisliiM(r,  wailiiiir,  dashinir,  howliiifr,  rushin<r,  riiid  nioauing 
of  tlio  waves  is  a  gh)rious  luHal))-,  and  a  fit  prelude  to  a  dream 
of  the  sea. 

At  an  early  hour  on  the  followinj^  (hiy,  wo  embarked  for 
home,  but  a  sorry  time  did  we  have  of  it,  lor  tlie  winds  were 
very  lazy.  We  were  ten  hours  goin*,''  tlie  distance  of  twenty- 
two  miles.  It  was  now  sunset,  and  we  were  Ixcalmed  ofl' 
(Jale's  F(,'rry.  Ashore  wc  went,  resolved  to  await  the  com- 
iui^of  the  SajT  Harbor  steamboat,  whieli  usually  arrived  about 
nine  o'clock,  and  by  which  wc  were,  finally,  taken  in  tow. 
Snugly  seated  in  our  boat,  and  going  at  the  rate  of  eighteen 
miles,  we  were  congratnlating  ourselves  upon  an  early  arrival 
home,  and  had  already  begun  to  divide  our  lish.  But,  alas, 
at  this  moment  ihe  painter  broke;  the  steamer,  unconscious 
of  our  fate,  still  sped  onward,  while  we  sheered  olT  towards 
the  shore,  ((/most  disgusted  with  human  life  in  gonoral — for 
our  boat  was  large,  and  wc  had  but  one  oar.  Hut  wiiat  mat- 
ter ?  We  were  a  jolly  set,  and  the  way  wc  gave  ihrce  cheers, 
as  a  prelude  to  tlie  song  of  "  Begone  Dull  Care,"  must  have 
been  startling  to  the  thousand  sleeping  echoes  of  liill,  forest, 
river  and  glen. 

Having  crept  along  at  snails'  pace  about  one  mile,  we  con- 
cluded to  land,  and,  if  possible,  obtain  a  place  to  sleep,  and 
something  to  eat;  for  not  having  had  a  regular  dinner,  and 
not  a  mouthful  of  supper,  we  were  half  starved.  With  clubs 
in  our  hands,  to  keep  ofT  hobgoblins  and  bull-dogs,  we 
wended  our  way  towards  a  neighboring  farm-house,  where 
we  knocked  for  admittance.  Pretty  soon,  a  great  gawky- 
looking  head  stuck  itself  out  of  an  upper  window,  to  which 
we  made  known  our  heartfelt  desires,  receiving,  in  return,  the 


THE  SPF.CTliK. 


219 


Ibilowiiiir  answer: — "  My  wilt*  is  sick — liaiii'l  not  any  l)r('ail 
— vou  can  iH)  ill  iIk;  harii  to  sleep  it'  von  want  to;"  and  we 
turned  reliK'tantly  away,  troubled  with  a  teeliii<r  veiy  nearly 
allied  to  an<,n'i".  "Come,  let's  oo  oil*  in  this  dirrrtion,"  ex- 
claimed one  oC  the  party,  "and  I'll  introduce  you  to  my  i>U\ 
fri(Mui,  Captain  Soniehody;" — and  away  we  p(t>icd,  two  hy 
two,  across  a  new-mown  lii  ]d.  I'reseiitly,  our  two  leaders 
wore  awe-siri(  ken  hv  tlur  sudikn  apj)earance  of  soinetliini^ 
white,  whi(d»  seenud  to  he  rising  out  of  the  earili,  heside  a 
cluster  oC  hushes,  and  the  way  they  wheeled  ahout,  and  ran 
for  the  river,  (accompanied  hy  (heir  t(dK)ws,  whose;  fVii,dU  was 
merely  sympatljetic,)  was  "  a  caution"  to  all  unlxdicvers  in 
ghosts  and  other  mi(lnii;ht  spectres. 

At  last  we  halt(Hl  to  t,^ain  a  little  hreath  ;  an  explanaiion  was 
made;  and  our  captain  forthwith  resolved  to  inrrs/iiCiiff'  the 
matter,  lie  now  took  the  lead,  and  on  comiut;  to  the  mys- 
terious spot,  discovereil  an  o/t/  hliml  iridic  IiortiC,  who  had 
been  awakened  by  a  noise,  and,  i'ollowinjr  the  instinct  of  his 
nature,  had  risen  from  his  lair,  to  be  better  prepared  for  dan- 
crer.  I  doubt  whether  the  echoes  are  yet  silent,  which  were 
caused  by  the  loud  and  long  peals  of  laughtiu-  which  resounded 
to  the  sky.  Being  in  a  strange  land,  without  chart  or  com- 
pass, we  could  not  find  the  mortal  dwelling-place  of  Captain 
Somebody,  and  so  we  changed  our  course  of  travel. 

We  stopped  at  another  house,  firther  on,  but  to  save  our 
lives  we  could  not  obtain  an  interview,  although  we  entered 
the  hen-coop,  and  set  the  hens  and  roosters  a  cacdvling  and 
crowing — the  pig-pen,  and  set  the  hogs  a  sciucaling — wliile  a 
large  dog  and  two  puppies  did  their  best  to  increase  and  pro- 
long tlic  mighty  chorus.  If  our  farmer  friend  did  not  deem 
himself  transported  to  Bedlam,  about  that  time,  we  imagine 
that  nothing  on  earth  would  have  the  power  to  give  him  such 
a  dream.     Our  ill-luck  made  us  almost  desperate,  and  so  wo 


^h 


220 


A  TOrR  TO  THE   RIVER  SAGUENAY. 


m 


ietiirnod  to  the  boat,  resolved  to  row  the  whole  distanoe  home, 
could  we  hut  find  an  extra  oar. 

It  was  now  eleven  o'clock,  and  the  only  things  that  seemed 
to  smile  upon  us  were  the  ten  thousand  stars,  studding  the 
clear,  bhic  firmament.  Anon,  a  twinkling  light  beamed  upon 
our  vision;  and,  as  we  approaclied,  wc  found  it  to  proceed 
from  a  little  hut  on  an  ishmd,  where  tlie  Tiiames  lamplighter 
and  his  boy  were  accustomed  to  pass  the  night,  after  their 
work  was  done.  Having  again  concluded  to  land,  we  re- 
ceived a  hearty  welcome,  as  the  host  proved  to  be  an  old  ac- 
quaintance of  our  captain  and  mate.  "  Have  you  anything 
to  eat  ?"  was  almost  the  first  question  of  every  tongue.  "  No. 
nothing  but  this  barrel  of  crackers,  and  some  cheese,"  ex- 
claimed the  man  of  light.  "  And  we,"  shouted  one  of  our 
crew,  "  have  plenty  offish, — can't  we  have  a  chowder?" 
"  Ay,  ay  ;  a  chowder,  a  chowder  it  shall  be  !"  were  the  words 
winch  rang  aloud  to  the  very  heavens.  A  wlierry  was  dis- 
patched to  the  main-land,  to  the  well-known  habitation  of  the 
old  lishennan,  for  the  necessary  iron  pot  and  bowls,  and  for 
the  potatoes  and  onions,  which  were  dug  for  the  occasion ; 
also  for  the  pork,  llie  pepper,  and  salt;  all  which,  added  to 
our  biscuit  and  black-lish,  nicely  cleaned  and  prepared,  con- 
stituted a  chowder  of  the  very  first  water.  There  was  one 
addition  to  our  company,  in  the  person  of  the  old  fisherman; 
and  our  appearance,  as  we  were  seated  in  a  circle  on  the 
door,  each  with  a  bowl  of  thick  hot  soup  in  his  hands,  con- 
stituted a  picture  rich  and  rare.  After  we  were  dr)ne,  it  was 
acknowledged  by  all,  tliat  a  better  meal  had  never  been  en- 
joyed by  mortal  man.  In  about  thirty  minutes  from  this 
time,  the  odd  one  of  the  company  bade  us  "good  night," 
and  the  midnight  brotherhood  resigned  diemsclves  to  sleep. 
The  last  sounds  I  heard,  before  closing  my  eyes,  were  caused 
bv  the  regular  opposition  steamboats  from  New  York,  as  they 


HOME. 


221 


shot  ahead   almost  as  "  swift  as  an  arrow  from  a  shiverincr 
bow." 

The  first  faint  streak  of  daylight  found  lis  on  board  our 
boat,  homeward  bound,  wafted  on  by  a  pleasant  southerly 
breeze.  At  the  usual  hour,  we  were  all  seated  at  our  respect- 
ive breakfast  tables,  relating  our  adventures  of  the  excursion 
just  ended. 


CHAP  T  E  11    XXVI. 

A  wook  ill  a  fishing  siiuick — I'^i-lirrincii — A  In  ;iuliriil  iiinniiniz  ;it  sea — 
A  (iiiy  at  NamiH'kcl — Wreck  cii'  a  ^liip — Niyht  on  tlii^  Souiul — Safe 
arrival 


m 


1. 1 


"Vt 


NonincJi,  Conn  .  J}iii:n^!. 

On  a  ploasant  Moii(]:iy  niorninir  I  started  from  Nnrwioli. 
bound  to  New  TiOiidon,  and  from  ihenco  to  any  oiIkm' portion 
of  iho  world  where  1  niiirlil  liave  some  sport  in  the  way  of 
saltwater  rishinjr.  In  less  than  an  liour  after  landinu  from 
the  steaml)oat,  I  had  boarded  the  handsome  smack  Orleans, 
Captain  Kceney,  and  by  dint  of  much  persuasion,  secured  a 
bertli  on  board  to  accompany  him  on  a  fishing  voyajre.  In 
addition  to  my  previous  preparation,  I  had  only  to  purchase 
a  Guernsey  shirt  and  tarpaulin  ;  and  by  the  time  I  was  regu- 
larly equipped,  the  sails  were  hoisted,  and  we  were  on  our 
course  for  Nantucket.  An  intimate  acquaintance  was  soon 
formed  between  myself  and  crew,  which  consisted  of  the 
master,  two  sailors,  and  the  cook.  The  whole  time  that  I 
spent  in  their  company  was  six  days,  as  I  reached  home  on 
the  following  Saturday  evening.  The  incidents  that  I  met 
with  were  somewhat  new,  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  I  em- 
ployed a  few  moments  of  every  evening,  during  my  absence, 
in  briefly  recording  the  events  of  the  past  day;  and  that 
medley  I  now  put  together  as  a  literary  chowder. 


SMACK  FISHERMEN. 


223 


Monddii  Evpuins:.  Mv  observations  to-dav  liavc  been 
limited  to  our  little  vessel,  in  consequence  of  a  dense  fofj, 
wbich  drencbed  us  to  tlie  skin,  and  seems  likely  to  continue 
us  in  tbis  state  of  preservation.  I  bave  obtained  some  infor- 
mation, bowever,  concerning  tlie  cbaracter  of  an  interesting 
class  of  men,  wbicb  may  be  new  to  you.  Smack-fisbermen 
are  a  brave,  bardy,  bonest,  and  simple-hearted  race,  and,  as 
my  captain  tells  me,  spend  nine-tentlis  of  tbeir  time  "  rocked 
in  tlie  cradle  of  tbc  deep."  Tbeir  vessels,  or  smacks,  are 
generally  of  about  forty  tons  burden;  tbe  number  of  tbose 
wbicb  supply  New  York  and  Boston  witb  fisli  is  said  to  be 
near  a  thousand,  and  they  are  all  at  home  anywhere  on  the 
coast  between  tbe  Kennebeck  and  the  Delaware.  Of  tlie  perils 
whicli  tliese  fishermen  endure,  and  the  privations  theysuifcr, 
how  little  is  known  or  tboujrbt  by  tbe  jjreat  world  at  lar<re  ! 
Yet  I  believe  there  is  as  much  genuine  happiness  in  their 
lives,  as  in  those  of  any  other  class.  Their  fathers  were 
fishermen  before  them,  and  as  they  themselves  bave  mostly 
been  born  within  bearing  of  tbe  surf,  they  look  upon  tbe  un- 
sounded deep  as  their  fitting  home,  their  only  liome,  and 
would  not  part  with  it  for  a  palace  or  a  crown.  Four  is  the 
usual  number  of  a  smack's  crew,  and  the  master  is  invariably 
called  a  skipper.  Most  of  them  are  worth}'  husbands  and 
fathers,  whose  families  are  snugly  harbored  in  some  con- 
venient seaport,  with  enough  and  to  spare  of  the  good  things 
of  life.  Tiiey  are  a  jovial  set  of  men,  hailing  each  other 
upon  the  ocean  as  friends,  and  meeting  upon  land  as 
brothers.  Each  skipper  thinks  bis  craft  the  handsomest  and 
swiftest  that  fioats,  and  very  exciting  arc  tbe  races  they  some- 
times run.  Tbeir  afl^ection  for  their  own  vessel  is  like  that 
of  the  Arab  for  his  steed,  and  like  the  Arab,  too,  they  have 
been  known  even  to  weep  over  the  grave  of  tbeir  darling 
and  tbeir  pride. 

The  kinds  of  fish  which  they  mostly  bring  to  market  are 


224 


A  TOl  R  TO  THE   RIVER  SAGUENAY 


:J 


I 


'  ^l 


shad,  salmon,  lobsters,  mackerel,  ood,  bliicfish,  haddock,  black- 
fish,  pantries,  bass,  and  halibut.  The  first  three  arc  <rrncrally 
purchasctl  of  local  iLshermen,  but  all  the  rest  arc  caiii^^ht  by 
themselves.  The  haunts  of  the  idacktisli  are  rocky  reefs, 
diose  of  the  bass  and  bluefish  in  the  vicinity  of  sandy  shoals 
or  tide  rips,  and  those  of  the  remainder  in  about  fifteen 
fathoms  water.  'J'hese  are  the  varieties  they  capture  by 
way  of  business,  but  Mdien  in  a  frolicsome  mood,  they  fre- 
quently attack  a  sword-fish,  a  shark,  or  black  whale  ;  soul- 
thrilling',  indeed,  and  laujrhuble  withal,  are  the  yarns  they  spin 
conccrniniT  these  exploits. 

As  to  their  mode  of  livinfr,  while  at  sea,  it  is  just  what  it 
should  be,  and  what  they  would  have  it,  althougli  it  would 
be  "  positively  shocking"  to  a  Bond  Street  gentleman  of  lei- 
sure. I3ut  they  always  possess  a  good  appetite,  which  is 
what  money  cannot  purchase,  and  without  which  the  greatest 
delicacy  in  the  world  would  be  insipid  or  loathsome.  Fish, 
sea-biscuit,  corn-beef  and  ])ork,  potatoes,  onions,  and  pan- 
cakes, constitute  their  provisions,  and  what  besides  these 
would  a  reasonable  man  desire  ?  It  is  with  a  mixture  of 
some  of  these,  that  a  chowder  is  concocted,  and  where  can 
anything'  more  delicious  be  found,  even  at  the  tables  of  the 
Astor  and  American  ?  And  with  these  ingredients,  more- 
over, they  manage  very  well  to  keep  body  and  soul  together, 
unless  a  storm  on  a  rock-bound  coast  happens  to  make  a 
sudden  separation. 

I  have  just  been  on  deck,  and  must  say  that  I  resume  my 
pen  with  a  heavier  heart.  The  fog  has  not  dispersed  in  the 
least,  a  regular  gale  of  wind  is  blowing  from  the  north,  and 
the  waves,  seemingly  in  a  revengeful  mood,  are  tossing  our 
bark  about,  as  if  the  skipper,  like  the  Ancient  Mariner,  had 
shot  another  albatros.  But  like  a  fearless  man,  as  he  is,  he 
stands  at  the  helm,  watching  the  sails  with  a  steady  eye,  and 
the  men  with  their  storm-jackets  on  are  standing  by,  mutter- 


rEAUTIFTL  MORXIXG. 


225 


le 
id 
Ur 
id 
lie 
id 
Ir- 


in<T  something  about  the  cominf^  darkness,  and  a  reef  some- 
where on  our  lee.  Never  before  have  I  so  distinctly  uncU'r- 
stood  the  force  of  the  Psahnist's  simih%  when  lie  cKmjKires 
a  wave  to  a  drunken  man  recjlin^  to  and  fro.  Both  have  it 
in  their  power  to  cause  a  mighty  mischii;f,  and  both  become 
exhausted  and  perish, — one  upon  a  sandy  beach,  and  the 
other,  sweeping  over  the  ])eninsula  of  time,  linds  a  grave 
on  the  shore  of  oblivion.  Heavens!  how  the  wind  whistles, 
and  the  waters  roar!  Ay,  but  a  still  small  voice  salutes  my 
ear,  and  I  lay  me  down  to  slee]),  with  a  prayer  upon  my  lips, 
and  a  feeling  of  security  at  my  heart,  as  I  place  implicit  con- 
fidence in  Ilim  who  lioldeth  the  ocean  in  the  hollow  ot'  his 
hand. 

Tuesday  Evening.  I  was  awakened  out  of  a  deep  sleep 
this  morning  by  the  following  salutation  from  the  skipjier,  as 
he  patted  me  on  the  shoulder.  "It's  a  beautiful  morning, 
and  you  ought  to  be  up; — the  fog  is  gone,  and  the  wind  is 
down;  won't  you  come  up  and  take  the  helm  awhile,  so 
that  the  boys  and  I  may  obtain  a  little  sleep  before  reaching 
the  fishing-ground,  which  will  be  about  ten  o'clock  ?"  i  was 
delighted  to  accept  the  invitation,  and  in  a  very  short  time 
the  sailors  were  asleep,  and  I  in  my  new  station,  j)roiid  as  a 
king,  and  happy  as  a  sinless  boy.  And  O  that  I  could  de- 
scribe the  scene  that  fascinated  my  eyes  as  I  lay  there  upon 
the  deck,  widi  one  hand  resting  on  the  rudder,  and  my  other 
hand  grasping  a  Claude  glass!  I  felt  as  I  once  felt  before, 
when  standing  on  the  famous  precipice  of  Niagara,  that  then, 
more  than  ever,  I  desired  God  to  be  my  friend.  I  also  felt, 
that,  if  the  world  did  not  demand  the  feeble  services  of  mv 
life,  I  should  wish  to  remain  upon  the  ocean  forever,  provided 
I  could  have  "one  fair  being  for  my  minister."  More  ear- 
nestly than  ever  did  I  long  for  a  complete  mastery  of  the  pic- 
torial art.    The  fact  of  being  out  sight  of  land,  where  the  blue 

element  announced  that  the  ocean  was  soundless,  filled  my 
15 


220 


A  TOUR  TO  THE  RIVER  SAGUEXAY. 


I 

'-{■■ 


soul  with  thai  "  lone,  lost  fei'lin<r,"  which  i.s  supposed  to  be 
iho  caiijc's,  when  journoyiii<y  to  the  zenith  of  the  sky.  The 
sun  iiad  just  risen  above  the  waves,  and  tiic  whole  eastern 
portion  of  the  heavens  was  Hooded  with  the  most  e\'(}uisite 
colorintr  I  ever  beheld, — from  the  deepest  (;rinison  to  the 
faintest  and  most  delicate  purple,  from  the  darkest  yellow  to 
an  almost  invisible  ^reen;  and  all  blemleil,  too,  in  myriad 
forms  of  marvellous  loveliness.  A  rellection  of  this  scene 
was  also  visible  in  the  remainiiiir  quarters  of  the  horizon. 
Around  me  the  illimitable  deep,  whose  bosom  is  studded  with 
many  a  gallant  and  glittering  ship, 

tlint  Ii;ivc  tli(>  |il;iiii 

Or  (ii'caii  for  lliiir  own  ilomniii. 

The  waves  are  lulling  themselves  to  rest,  and  a  balmy 
breeze  is  waiuleriiig  by,  as  if  seeking  its  old  grandfather,  who 
kicked  up  the  grand  rumpus  last  night;  whereby  I  hjarn,  that 
the  olTspring  of  a  "  rough  and  stormy  sire,"  are  sometimes 
very  beautiful  and  aOectionate  to  the  children  of  men.  But 
look!  even  the  dwellers  in  the  sea  and  of  the  sea  are  partici- 
pating in  the  hilarity  of  this  briglit  summer  morning  !  Here, 
a  school  of  herring  are  skipping  along  like  a  frolicsome 
party  of  vagal)onds  as  they  are, — and  yonder  a  shark  has 
leaped  out  of  the  water,  to  display  the  symmetry  of  his  form 
and  the  largeness  of  his  jaw,  and  looking  as  if  he  thought, 
''that  land-lubber  would  make  me  a  lirst  rate  breakfast;" 
there,  a  lot  of  porpoises  are  playing  "  leap-frog,"  or  some 
other  outlandish  game;  and,  a  little  beyond  them,  a  gentle- 
man svvord-lish  is  swaggering  along  to  parts  unknown,  to 
fiirht  a  duel  in  cold  blood  with  some  equally  cold-blooded 
native  of  the  AUantic;  and  now,  a  flock  of  gulls  are  cleaving 
their  course  to  the  south,  to  the  floating  body  perhaps  of  a 
drowned  mariner,  which  their  sagacity  has  discovered  a  league 
or  two  away: — and  now,  again,  I  notice  a  flock  of  pcrcj^, 


COD  FISHING. 


227 


hastcninir  onward  to  whore  the  winds  hh)w  ami  the  wa\ cs  arc 
wliite.  SiU'h  arc  tlic  pictures  I  heliehl  in  niv  hriel'  period  ot' 
command.  It  may  liave  heen  hnt  fancy,  hnt  I  thonnht  my 
litth;  vessel  was  trying  to  cclipsi'  her  I'ormer  Ix^nitv  and  her 
former  speed.  One  thinjif  I  know,  that  slie  '•  walked  the 
water  like  a  thini,^  of  life."  1  fancied,  too,  that  I  was  the 
identical  last  man  whom  Camphell  saw  in  his  vision,  and 
that  I  was  then  honnd  to  the  haven  of  eternal  rest.  l»nt  my 
shipmates  returninii  from  the  land  of  Sod,  and  a  certain 
clamor  within  uw  own  hody  havinu'  caui;ht  my  ear,  I  heeamc 
convinced  that  to  hreak  my  fast  wonld  make  \nv  ha|)pier  liian 


lied 


anythmi(  else  just  at  that  time,  and  I  was  soon  as  coiiten 
as  an  alderman  at  five  1'.  M.  Ahout  two  jiours  after  this,  we 
reached  onr  lishiiiir-place,  which  was  twenty  miles  <  ;ist  of 
Nanturket.  \Vt>  then  lowered  the  jih  and  topsail,  and  having 
lulled  and  fastened  the  mainsheet,  so  that  the  smack  could 
easily  lloat,  we  hauled  out  our  lim^s  and  commenced  lishinir, 
baitiiiiX  our  hooks  with  (dams,  of  whiidi  we  had  some  ten 
busluds   on    hoard.      Cod  lishing  (for  we  were  on   a  cixldi 


na 


cruize    IS  rather  du 


11 


port ;   it   is,  in   (act,  w 


hat    1 


wouhl  ca 


II 


hard    lahor.      In   six    hours  we    had    cauuht 


the  s 


wan 


ted, 


or  that  the  well  won 


Id 


lioltl,  so  wi'  made  sai 


upper 
anain. 


)0uni 


I    to    New  York:    and   at  supper-time   the  deck  of  our 


d 


smack  was  as  (dean  and  dry  as  li  it  had  never  heen  pressci 
save  by  the  feet  (jf  ladies.  At  sunset,  however,  a  fierce 
southerly  wind  sprang  up,  so  th:;*  we  were  coinpened  to 
make  a  harbor;  and  just  as  I  am  closintr  this  record,  we  are 
anchorinir  oil'  Nantucket,  with  a  score  of  storm-beaten  whalers 
on  our  starboard  bow. 

TJ^cdnrsdai/  Evfn'uvj;.     The  weather  to-dav  has  been  ([iiite 
threateninu",  and  the  skipper  thou<xht  ii  best  to  remain  at  our 


mooriniis ;   but  with 


me  t! 


le  (lav  has  not  been   devou 


1   of 


in- 


terest;  for,  in  mv  sailor  irarb,  I  have  been  slrollitiir  ahout  the 
town,  studviiiiT   the   ureat   and   solemn   drama   of  life,  while 


228 


A  TOUR  TO  THE   RTVER  SAOrEN'AY. 


playfully  acting  a  subordinate  part  myself.  'JMiis  morning, 
as  it  happened,  I  went  into  the  public  graveyard,  and  spent 
an  hour  oonninuf  over  the  rude  inscriptions  to  the  memory  of 
the  departed.  In  tliat  city  of  the  dead  I  saw  a  number  of 
the  liviuiT  walkinir  to  and  fro,  but  there  was  one  who  attracted 


m 


y  par 


ticid 


w  attention. 


II 


e  was  a  sauor,  and  was  se 


nd 


ated 


ipoii 


an  unmarked  mound,  with  his  feet  restinir  upon  a  smaller 
one  beside  it,  his  head  reclined  upon  one  hand,  while  the 
otlier  was  occasionally  passed  across  his  face,  as  if  wiping 
away  a  tear.  I  hailed  iiini  with  a  few  kind  questions,  and 
my  answer  was  tlie  following  brief  tale  : — 

"  Yes,  sir,  four  years  ago  I  shipped  aboard  that  whaler, 
yonder,  leaving  behind  me,  in  a  sweet  little  cottage  of  my 
own,  a  mother,  a  wife,  and  an  only  boy.  They  Mere  all  in 
the  enjoyment  of  good  health,  and  happy;  and,  when  we 
were  under  sail,  and  I  saw  from  the  mast-head  how  kindly 
they  waved  tlieir  handkerchiefs  beside  my  door,  I,  too,  was 
happy,  even  in  my  hour  of  grief.  Since  that  time  1  have 
circumnavigated  the  globe,  and  every  rare  curiosity  1  could 
obtain,  was  intended  for  my  darlinijc  ones  at  home.  Last 
Saturday  our  ship  returned,  when  I  lantled,  flew  to  my 
dwelling,  and  found  it  locked.  The  flagging  in  my  yard  at- 
tracted my  notice,  and  I  thought  it  strange  that  the  rank  grass 
had  been  sufi'ered  to  grow  over  it  so  thickly.  The  old  minis- 
ter passed  by  my  gate,  and  running  to  him  with  extended 
hand,  I  inquired  for  my  fainily.  'Oh,  Mr.  B.,'  said  he, 
'  you  must  bless  the  Lord  ; — he  gave  them  to  you,  and  he 
hath  taken  them  away.'  And  as  the  thought  stole  into  my 
brain,  my  sullering,  sir,  was  intense,  and  I  longed  to  die. 
And  there  they  are,  my  wife  and  darling  child,  and,  a  step  or 
two  beyond,  my  dear  old  mother.    Peace  to  their  memories  !" 

Such  is  the  simple  story  I  heard  in  the  Nantucket  grave- 
yard, and  I  have   pondered   much  upon   the  world  of  woe 


a 


"> 


SAILOR  LIFE. 


229 


which  must  liave  been  hiddoii  in  the  breast  of  that  okl  ma- 
riner. 

After  dinner  to-day,  I  strolled  into  tlie  company  of  some 
fishermen  who  were  going  after  bass  and  bhiefish,  and  in  a 
short  time  I  had  captured,  with  my  own  hands,  two  big  bass 
and  some  dozen  bhicfisli — which  I  packed  in  ice  as  a  present 
to  some  New  York  friends. 

At  my  present  time  of  writing,  wliich  is  near  ten  o'clock 
at  niglit,  we  are  weigliing  anchor,  and  the  skipper  tells  me 
we  shall  be  in  New  York  by  to-morrow's  sunset.  An  hour 
before  coming  on  board  this  evening,  I  lounged  into  a  sailor 
boarding-house,  and  mingled  as  freely  with  a  company  of 
whalemen  there,  as  if  I  had  ever  been  a  bond  fide  member 
of  the  craft.  I  heard  a  great  deal  that  interested  me,  and 
was  sorry  that  I  could  not  remain  longer.  There  were  some 
in  that  company  lately  arrived  from  every  portion  of  the 
world,  and  yet  they  were  engaged  in  the  same  business,  and 
had  journeyed  on  the  same  mighty  highway  of  nations. 
One  was  descanting  upon  the  coral  islands  of  the  torrid 
zone;  another  upon  the  ice-mountains  of  the  Arctic  Sea;  a 
third  was  describing  the  coast  of  California;  and  another  the 
waters  that  lave  the  eastern  shore  of  Asia.  The  more  I 
listened  to  these  men,  the  more  did  the  immensity  of  ocean 
expand  before  my  mind,  and  in  the  same  proportion  was  I 
led  to  wonder  at  the  wisdom  of  the  Almighty. 

I  have  just  been  on  deck,  and  find  that  we  are  on  the  way 
to  our  desired  haven,  wafted  by  a  steady  and  pleasant  breeze. 
Our  course  is  between  Martha's  Vineyard  and  Rhode  Island, 
which  is  a  route  studded  with  islands  and  seaports,  that  now 
appear  in  the  cool  starlight  like  the  pictures  of  a  dream. 

Thursday  Eveniui:.  Instead  of  coming  tlirough  the 
Sound  last  night,  we  headed  our  vessel  outside  of  Long  Is- 
land, and  after  a  deliglitful  sail,  have  realized  our  skipper's 
promise,  for  we  are  now  floating  beside  the  market  in  New 


230 


A  TOUR  TO  THE  RIVER  SAGTEXAY. 


York.  Tlio  reason  rissiiriunl  for  lakinir  tlic  outsido  course 
was,  thai  iIm^  lish  would  keep  hotter,  on  acrount  of  the  uroater 
coldness  of  the  water.  jN'otliinfr  of  peculiar  interc-t  has 
ha])pcned  to  us  to-day,  cx(!ept  the  nieetinj^  with  a  wreck  off 
Sandy  J  look.  It  was  tli(3  hull  of  a  lari^o  ship,  wlu)S(!  name 
we  coidd  not  discern.  It  had  a  very  old  aj)pearance,  and 
from  the  moss  and  sea-weed  that  covered  it,  we  supposed  it 
must  have  heeu  alloat  for  many  niontlis,  the  jilaytliiuii"  of  the 
waves.  "Man  marks  the  earth  witji  ruin,"  hut  who  is  it 
that  scatters  siu'h  splendid  ruins  upon  the  ocean  .'  And  a 
thousand  remorseless  surges  echo  hack  the  answer:  ''Tons 
belong  the  i,d()ry  of  those  deeds."  If  that  wreck  had  lan- 
gua<re,  what  a  slranire,  eventful  history  would  it  reveal  !  Its 
themes  would  he, — home  and  all  its  treasures  lost ;  the  sea, 
and  all  its  dauLTors  ;  the  soul,  and  all  its  aijonies;  the  lieart, 
and  all  its  suHeriuirs.  Hut  when  we  multiply  all  this  as  fast 
as  time  is  muhiplyinij"  it,  we  cannot  hut  realize  the  idea,  that 
human  life  is  hut  a  prohationary  state,  and  that  sorrow  and 
sighiuiT'  are  our  earthly  inheritance. 

Frlihtij  Ecminp!;.  After  portioning  out  my  fish  this  morn- 
ing, and  sending  them  to  my  friends,  I  put  on  my  usual  dress, 
and  having  obtained  a  six  hours'  furlough,  set  oil'  towards 
Broadway,  where,  l)etween  the  reading  rooms  and  ihe  studios 
of  a  few  artists,  I  managed  to  spend  my  time  quite  pleasantly. 
At  noon,  we  embarked  for  home,  and  had  a  delightful  lime, 
passing  through  the  East  River,  and  that  pleasing  jianorama 
from  the  city  to  the  Sound  never  appeared  more  beautiful. 

It  is  now  quite  late,  and  I  have  been  on  deck  all  the  even- 
ing alone.  In  a  thoughtful  mood  I  fixed  my  eyes  upon  the 
stars,  and  my  spirits  were  saddened  by  the  continual  murmur 
of  the  sea.  Of  what  avail,  thought  I,  is  all  this  excitement  ? 
Why  was  I  created,  and  what,  0  what  is  my  destiny  ?  Is  it  to 
sail  for  a  few  brief  years  longer  upon  the  ocean  of  life,  and, 
when  the  death-tempest  overtakes  me,  to  pass  away  unloved 


W»iv^_ 


THK    KM>. 


231 


and    u  I  ire  HUM  111)  ere  (1   l)V  a   siiiL'^le   k\\,  firrut  ?      U'  not   an 

honored  name,  can  I  not  leavi' behind  i  •' at  i<ii«l'''f  memory 
lluil  will  be  elifrishcd  by  a  few,  a  V(  ry  (  w ,  to  \  .om  1  have 
laid  bare  my  innermost  soul,  when  I  wa-  yoimr'  th:<ilrt  '  iiii 
now  and  a  iHiiidred-lold  nnjre  happy  '  What  !  O  night!  >>  jiat 
IS  my  destiny  .' 

Sttfui'ilmj  Ih'cnins^.  We  anchored  oil'  \ew  FiOndou  to- 
day, in  time  lor  me  to  take  the  evcninii  steamer  lor  Norwich. 
Wh(!n  I  parted  with  my  "  shipmates,"  I  shook  each  om;  af- 
fectionately by  the  hand,  and  thoniiht  that  I  miirht  travel 
many  years  without  lindini(  a  brotherhood  of  nobler  nu*n. 
I  reached  home  as  the  eiiiht  o'clock  bells  were  rin<nnir,  and 
was  reminded  that  another  week  of  precious  time  was  for- 
ever gone.  That  it  must  be  remembered  as  an  unprofitable 
one,  I  cannot  believe,  for  1  feel  that  my  soul  has  i»ecii  enlarged 
and  my  heart  humbled,  by  listening  to  the  teachings  of  the 
mighty  deep. 


TH  f: 


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